One Hand Clapping
by Stormy1x2
Summary: Caseycentric. Our favorite vigilante learns not all battles can be fought with a baseball bat, and that accepting a helping hand can be the hardest thing of all to do. Implied Casey and April. Long fic, angst, turtle friendship and more.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** One Hand Clapping

**Author:** Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)

**Words (fic portion) for chapter 1**: 9710 (approx 23-24 OpenOffice pages)

**Rating: **PG13 for language

**Pairing: **Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad

**Summary:** **_Book 1_**. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed.

**Notes: **Since Casey's mother was never given an official name in the cartoon, I went online and researched Italian female names. The first one that jumped out at me was 'Adelina', which means 'noble' and fits with my interpretation of her. Her maiden name is 'Esposito'. His grandmother's name is 'Fiametta', meaning 'little fire'. Casey got his energy from his mother, and Adelina had to get it from someone. I've also created a history for his maternal/paternal grandparents and subsequent family members. None of these things are canon, and are the result of my own ideas. I've tried to work everything around the existing episodes (except FF) and they seem to fit into the extremely detailed time-line I've created that I'll post at the end of the fic (since the time-line contains spoilers).

The idea of Casey's mother being of Italian descent is my own idea. Casey's dad is most likely of Jewish descent (Jones being Hebrew, according to www dot last-names dot net), and I chose the name David, since it is a popular Jewish name. This is not cause for major issue in the fic, nor are there any religious issues brought up at any point, but I just wanted to explain the names I chose.

Also, in order to include all the details – cousin Sid, ownership of the farmhouse, Casey's family line – I had to tweak it a smidge, making the Esposito's (Casey's mother's side of the family) and the Joneses (Casey's father's side of the family) become good, close, family friends after the marriage of their children – Adelina Esposito and David Arnold Jones.

The turtles are 17, almost 18, since I'm guess-stimating only a year and a half approximately has passed since the beginning to the end of S3. Season 4 is largely being ignored, since I don't have access to all the eps, though a few key incidents will be mentioned (primarily ones from eps that I've seen i.e Cousin Sid, Donnie's mutation, the demise of Baxter Stockman, the appearance of the Rat King etc). I haven't seen any of the eps for the lost S5 details are going to be heavily glossed over. S6 or FF does not happen – but ideas from FF are going to be used. You'll see how, as the fic progresses.

**Additional:**

_Italics -- _indicate thoughts.

**_9696969696_** -- indicates scene changes/POV switches.

-- indicates flashbacks

**Special Thanks: **To **One Small Monkey** who went over this with a fine tooth comb, made some great suggestions, and helped me fix too many things to mention. I went back and added/changed things after the beta'd versions came back, so any mistakes found here are mine and mine alone.

**Finally:** This fic is dedicated to my best friend of seven years, Kathy (aka LJ's angelkatchan). She may not have the same problems as mentioned here, but she certainly knows about living with adversity – and she's most definitely a survivor. Toughest gal I know, next to myself. And her son is going to rule the world.

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_Man, I'm gonna be late again!_ Casey groaned and resumed his search efforts, flinging jackets and assorted junk out of his way. He stopped by the sofa again – his sixth time – and all but ripped the cushions off it instead of feeling through the cracks like he had before. He scanned the newly-naked couch and then slumped. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

_Keys, keys, keys, keys, KEYS, _he chanted inside his head, pulling out drawers and dumping over containers. He ran his hand along what surface remained of his cluttered coffee table, and then began tossing copies of Maxim magazine and Playboy over his shoulder, his growls of frustration growing louder as each newly-revealed layer failed to produce the keys to his bike.

Magazine, magazine, TV Guide, empty popcorn bag – _ew, roach, die DIE_ – gum wrappers, remote – _remote? Damn I was LOOKIN' for that one_ – DVD, centerfold that was of course, unfolded – _hellooooooo nurse, gotta save me that one_ – newspaper, more gum wrappers, his cell phone that he tossed into his bag and his Shell Cell that he shoved into his pocket.

No keys.

Casey sighed, tilting his head back.

"It's because April's expectin' me, and I actually _want_ to be on time, isn't it?" he asked the ceiling. The ceiling didn't answer, which was a good thing. If it did, it meant that he had much more serious issues than lost keys.

Something shiny – oooohh! Casey leaped across the room and pounced on the small, battered stand by the door – the area he had designated the 'hallway', even though there was no actual hall – and groaned again as he registered the quarters scattered on the desk. He had discovered those last time, on his fifth trip 'round the living room. He scooped them into his pocket, grabbing the jawbreaker sitting there as well as an afterthought. He popped _that_ into his mouth, ignoring the metal taste that candy can acquire, particularly when said candy sits unwrapped on a pile of loose change for...who knows how long?

"Here keys," he crooned. "Nice keys, good keys, come to daddy. Where are you?"

Toss, throw, shift, trip – whoops. So THAT was where his Slugger 67 had gone, tucked in next to the radiator with just the handle sticking out. _Bad bat. No tripping daddy_. Casey yanked on the handle, freeing it from the heater-slash-prison and stuffing it into the golf bag slung on his back. It was a tight fit – _might have to start rotating some of these babies out_ – but he managed, and then straightened up, glaring at his living room as though it had openly defied him.

Well, in a way, it _had_. Refusing to turn his keys over to him. How dare it? He had legal rights! Full custody! There was NOT going to be a mutiny in his own living room!

About to begin the seventh circuit around the room, Casey was distracted by the phone ringing. For a second, his heart stopped – maybe it was April? Nah, she would have used the Shell Cell, right? His eyes focused on his watch, and he realized he was only about five minutes past the promised meeting time of six o'clock. Technically, that meant April wouldn't actually expect him for another ten to fifteen. He'd have to hustle but heck, he could use his special short-cut, the one that had left Mikey almost white – _s'not like I hit the walls, we had three whole freakin' inches clearance_ – and had caused Raph to make him promise never to use it again while he was in the vehicle with him. Considering how rare it was that the guys let him drive the Battle Shell, it wasn't like he was gonna do it any time soon.

Well, okay, so the shortcut was a little – unorthodox, as Donnie would say. But it would save precious, precious time and maybe also save him from being hit with a mop like she did at the farmhouse--

A shrill beeping noise interrupted his inner monologue. Oh yeah, the phone. _Ooops._

"'lo?"

"Arnold?"

There was absolutely no mistaking that raspy voice. And there was only one person who called him by _that name_ and lived.

"Ma?" Casey automatically pulled the phone away from his head and stared down at the receiver in shock..

His mother had a habit of not calling very often. They found it made both their lives less stressful. Casey didn't have to make up things that he claimed to do in his spare time (that he actually reserved for skull-busting with Raph), or the fact that he hadn't yet made her a grandmother, and best of all, he didn't have listen to that hated first name of his. His mother, on the other hand, didn't have to hear that her son still didn't have a full-time job or a decent education, or that he was seemingly always recovering from an injury or three that he would never properly explain how he got.

It was a win-win situation for both of them.

The squawking from the receiver reminded Casey that his mother was still talking, and he quickly lifted the handset back to his ear.

"--and so it might be best if I come over tonight, okay dear?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. No prob-"

_Wait a minute._

"Tonight?" Casey blurted out. "Ma, I got a date tonight with April – the girl you met at the farmhouse last year? I'm like, out the door in two minutes. Maybe four. Or five. But soon. Can't you come tomorrow?"

"Arnold, I'm sure April won't mind postponing your date. Besides, you're already late. Let me guess – you couldn't find your keys."

Casey gaped at the handset. "Good guess."

"Please. I _know_ you Arnold Casey Jones." Casey winced, but let his mother continue. "Go and get your keys from the front door dear – someone might steal them."

"What are you talkin'-- Ma, I did not leave my keys in the door," Casey growled into the phone, but his feet were moving anyway, eternal slaves to the 'don't argue with me' tone of his mother's that he had learned to unquestioningly obey when he was younger. "I'm not that--"

He froze as he took in the sight of his keys dangling from the lock, glinting teasingly at him in the light from the hallway. No way. No _way_.

"That is seriously scary, Ma," he declared into the phone, viciously yanking his keys free. "How the heck do you DO that?" She'd been doing it for as long as he could remember, but he didn't remember her as being so...accurate.

"Magical powers, dear. Remember? All mothers gain them as soon as their children learn to crawl, walk, and stick forks in outlets. Or in your case, plastic bats in the garbage disposal. And don't pull your keys out like that, you'll bend them."

"Cut that out!" Casey glared at the phone, and then looked suspiciously around the room. It had been a while since his mother's last visit but he wouldn't put it past her to have planted cameras or something.

"So I'll be there in a couple of hours."

"Ma--"

"It's important to me Arnold. I ask for so little of you – you can miss one date and spend an evening with your mother. I need to talk to you about a few things."

Casey froze as his mind went into panic mode. He blamed the sudden shift on his pre-teen years, when his mother's birds-and-the-bees speech had taught him to truly fear the words, 'We need to talk.'

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it," he blurted out. His mind raced through the last few battles he and the guys had fought, combing his memories to see if any reporters or cameras had gotten him on film. Heck, he hadn't even been mentioned in the last wave of Purple Dragon-bustin', something that bugged him, especially since Raph had gotten a 'man in a green costume' mention, but now he was thanking his lucky stars.

He gave himself a quick once-over – no bandages, no bruises that he could see. Since meeting up with the turtles, he had been picking up a few defense tips – or having them forced on him, in some situations – and was proud to see himself walking away from PD encounters with less damage then usual.

His mother was laughing on the phone, low and gravelly.

"I know dear. And if you did, I promise not to ask about it."

He thanked his stars again. This time, individually and by name.

"It's about me, and don't worry, I don't plan on embarrassing you. But I do want you home tonight when I get there. Say, eight o'clock?"

Casey sighed, seeing his plans of dinner and a movie with April going down the tubes, circling 'round and 'round and disappearing altogether like a swirlie in the toilet. "Okay ma. I'll be here."

"Good boy. I'll see you later then." She hung up.

Maybe he could still have dinner. He had almost an hour and a half until his mom showed – no, she'd probably show up early to see if he really was there. Casey gave another mournful sigh and then replaced the handset with his Shell Cell. His finger hovered over the pink button that would connect him with April. It was kinda weird how hard it was for a tough guy like him to be afraid to press that little button. Terrified even. But he did. Face the fear, and all that new-age garbage.

A warm and familiar voice answered, and Casey silently ordered his knees to cease that infernal knocking. They complied, but hesitatingly.

"Yo, April? S'me, Casey. Look, about tonight..."

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Three sharp staccato raps on the door had Casey almost leaping over the couch backwards in fright. The glowing numbers on the VCR – that _he_ programmed, mind you, NOT Don, though he did kinda have to walk him through – revealed that it was seven-thirty, and he shook his head with a small grin.

His mother may know him like the back of her weight set, but luckily, he also knew her.

Striding over to the door, he pulled it open and flung his arms out. "Ma!"

A bag of groceries was thrust into his arms. "Put those in that closet you call a kitchen, and be careful of the tomatoes – I don't want them bruised."

"Yes ma'am!" About face, _march_. Casey scurried into the kitchen, dumping the bag on the tiny metal and plastic table wedged into the corner. It was the one room of his home that stayed clean, a direct result of his devotion to the fast food industry, and the wonders of disposable plates. His mother followed behind slowly, and when she entered, he turned to face her again, arms outstretched. This time, hands free, she returned the offered hug.

"You look good, Arnold. A bit pale though – you need to get out in the sun more."

Casey thought about convincing Leonardo to do mid-day patrols. No, that probably was not going to happen. "Uh, sure ma."

He took a good long look at his mother. She looked tired, a bit pale herself. He noticed with shock that some grey had finally started to penetrate the black strands wisping about her angled face. She was a strong woman, his mother, but as he stood there looking at her, it occurred to him for the first time that his mother was getting old.

Suddenly, she smacked him upside the head.

"OW! Ma!"

"I'm not THAT old, junior," she said dryly, before pushing past him to empty the grocery sack. Casey rubbed his head, blinking. She did it again – how? _Mind powers? Mother-given telepathy? _And now she was glaring again, one hand halfway raised.

"Sorry, sorry!" _Clear the mind, that's what Splinter always says to do, right? No thoughts, no thoughts!_

His mother quirked an eyebrow, and lowered her hand to one of the bags. _Success!_

"Make yourself useful." She handed him the tomatoes to wash and dice. Casey watched in confusion as she pulled out a bag of pasta, several containers of spices, a small bag of mushrooms, a package of ground beef, a container of Parmesan cheese, and some green bell peppers.

"Ma?"

"I know I made you cancel your dinner date, so I thought I'd make it up to you. You never have anything substantial in this place to eat, and those tacos you had for a snack before I got here didn't even put a dent in your appetite."

His mother was a freakish mutant with mind-boggling powers that could see into his head. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that he was probably spending too much time reading Mikey's comic books. Still...no thoughts. _No_ thoughts. "Uh, thanks."

He diced the tomatoes, quickly, evenly, and dumped them into the large pot she'd unearthed from a cupboard. He didn't even know he had pots. He added some water and the tomato paste, and turned the heat up high. Without asking, he also grabbed the bag of mushrooms, taking them over to the sink to wash before cutting them up as well, while she mixed and molded the ground beef. As he helped her make his favorite home-cooked meal – spaghetti and meatballs, home-style – he glanced sideways at her, wondering if he should ask, or wait.

Yeah, like he'd ever been good at waiting.

"So what's up ma?" He gestured to the food, and herself. "Making me cancel a date, cookin' me dinner, saying we gotta talk. Should I be worried?"

His mother gave him a small smile, and added a pinch of oregano to the sauce that was slowly beginning to bubble. "We can talk after dinner, dear. "

_Okaaay_. Casey didn't like that smile. His mother could smirk with the best of them, and could probably send even Raphael running for the hills with her angry face, but she didn't often smile like _that_. Big toothy smiles, yes, but not little, 'I've got a secret' or 'I'm sorry to have to tell you' ones. Those ones made him nervous.

But his mother had obviously made up her mind about the course of events for the evening, and he knew nothing would make her break away from them. So it was best to keep chopping things. At least he was good at that. He smiled back at her, relaxing as hers widened a bit into something less scary, and added the mushrooms to the pot.

It didn't take long to make the meal, the two of them falling into a familiar rhythm of working together in a kitchen. After his dad died, it had been just the two of them, and dinnertime had become an important daily event. He'd help her make the meal, washing, cutting, slicing, stirring, all the while telling her everything that had happened during the day. They cleaned while they cooked too, washing things as they finished using them, which made the after-dinner cleanup fly by.

Putting the last of the dishes away, Casey patted his still-full stomach, belching contentedly. It had been a while since his last home-cooked meal. Wandering back out into the living room, he saw his mother relaxing on the sofa, idling thumbing through one of his muscle mags.

Adelina Jones had been a champion bodybuilder when she was younger. His father had been a pro hockey player until he got hurt, and then he'd bought the store that he'd run until the day it had been burnt to the ground. Casey was proud of his parents' strength, crediting them with his natural toughness.

He frowned though, as he took in his mothers' form, looking a bit thinner then usual. And she'd only eaten a few bites of the delicious meal they'd made, pushing the rest around her plate, while serving him heap after heap. She had always sworn by carbs and protein during her training days, he remembered. No fad diets for her. Wasting food wasn't a habit either – if he tried it, he got rapped knuckles. For her to leave so much...that meant something was up.

Coupling that thought with the obvious fatigue brought a frown to his face, and he joined her on the sofa, throwing one hand over the back of it.

"So, are you gonna tell me what this is all about or what?" He prodded gently. Well, their version of gentle. Mama Jones had never babied her son, preferring blunt honesty and openness, and Casey had learned to return the favor. "I'm starting to get worried."

Adelina folded her arms and sighed, reaching one hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose under her glasses. "I'm not really sure how to begin this Casey."

Oh _shell_. And he wasn't even going to laugh at himself for using Mikey's favorite, modified swear word. He was officially passed the concerned stage, becoming deeply entrenched in the terrified stage. His mother never called him Casey unless she was trying to soften him up for something. "Begin what?"

Adelina Jones sighed again, and then turned to face him completely. Her arms were still folded somewhat defensively across her chest, and she met his eyes calmly.

He waited.

"Casey," she said again, her voice a quiet rasp. "Son. I need to tell you something, and I need you to stay calm." She took a deep breath. "I was at the hospital last week. I uh...fainted, while I was shopping."

Casey frowned. "You sick or something?"

His mother smiled wryly at him and Casey mentally smacked himself. _Yeah, 'cause healthy people faint and get hospital stays. Idiot! _

"Or something." She uncrossed her arms, and reached out, taking one of Casey's larger hands. "They did an x-ray."

_Which would mean_...Casey shook his head. " Did you hurt yourself when you fainted? Break anything?"

Adeline let out a raspy chuckle. "Oh Arnold...Yes, it's the thing for broken bones but also checks for other things. Things much nastier then broken bones."

"Ma, I may not be the brightest bulb in the socket, but I ain't a complete idiot. What did the doctors find?" Casey was almost surprised to realize how calm he was.

His mother looked him square in the face and nodded once, as though steeling herself. "They found an...abnormality in my chest x-ray."

"What does that mean?"

"Casey," she said quietly, gripping his hand tightly. " It means I have only a short time left to do all the things I ever wanted to do, and thought I had time to."

Casey abruptly went numb.

"You...you're..."

"Yes dear," she said thickly. "I'm dying."

.

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.

The elevator doors slid open with a near-silent hiss, and April walked into the turtle's lair, her knapsack slung over one shoulder, the other hand raised in greeting. "Hi guys!"

"Yo, April!" Michaelangelo flew by overhead on his flying skateboard, spun around and came back. April gasped and dropped her bag, hands flying to protect her head. The humming noise that heralded the 'chuck-loving turtle's arrival died away as Mikey powered down. She uncovered her eyes to see him standing less then a foot away, peering quizzically at her.

"Yes, Mikey?"

"Call me crazy, but don't most dates last longer then, oh I don't know, an hour?"

"And what would you know about dates?" Raphael asked, looking up from his weight set. He switched arms and continued with his curls.

Mikey pouted. "I know lots! Like in Justice Force issue 99, Battling Bernice finally went on a date with Stainless Steve Steel, and they had dinner, a movie, and then a battle on the way back from the theater! They were gone all night!"

Another voice chimed in. "Mikey has a point. April was supposed to meet Casey at six o'clock. The fact that it is 6:35 and she's here and not out, would indicate that the date never took place for some reason." Donatello looked up from his workbench. "Which would tell me that--"

"April got dumped!" Mikey's brown eyes widened in shock.

"I did _not_ get dumped," April protested. "O'Neil women _never_ get dumped." She smiled ruefully. "But apparently we do get temporarily blown off in favor of other women."

"Say what?" Raphael's hands clenched around the barbell's he held. "You mean that lunkhead stood you up to see some other broad? Bro or no, I'll kill 'em!"

Mikey leaned in conspiratorially. "And how would Madam prefer his head be served? On a pike? A platter?" He waggled his eye ridges. "Or would you like him brought back alive so you can do the honors yourself?"

"Mikey!" Half-giggling, half-groaning, she whapped the ninja on the shoulder, ignoring his mild protest of pain. "I do not need avenging. It's sweet of you guys to offer though, even if it is unnecessary."

"So what happened then?" Donatello came to join them, wiping his hands on a ragged towel he kept tucked in his belt. April smiled at the show of concern from her adopted family members.

"I have been 'temporarily replaced' for the evening. Casey's mom called – she wanted to talk to him in person about something." April leaned down and picked up the bag she'd dropped when Mikey had buzzed by her head. "Casey seemed a little distracted. I hope everything's all right."

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Leonardo asked. He had been practicing his kata in the middle of the room, and now he came over, sheathing his swords with a metallic whisper of sword sliding against the worn leather. Raph tossed him a towel and Leo inclined his head in thanks. "Did he say anything else?"

"Nothing," April sighed. "That's one thing I've never been able to get him to open up on – his family. It's like they don't exist or something."

"Well, until Casey's mom showed up at the farmhouse, I just assumed his family members were...well, deceased.." Leonardo shrugged. He looked at Raph. "Does Casey have any pictures or anything in his apartment?"

"Nope." Raphael chewed idly on a toothpick he'd procured seemingly from thin air. "No pics, no albums, no letters, nothing that I've ever noticed. He doesn't have many personal things, outside 'a his weights and clothes."

"No momentos? Keepsakes?" Leo tried again. "Something that shows his history? Interests?"

"Like what?" Mikey questioned, in confusion. "All he does is fight and train. Kinda like you, Leo."

"I do more than that," Leonardo shot back. "I read. I watch TV with you. I play chess with Donnie. I work out with Raph."

"That counts as training, Leo," Mikey pointed out with a grin.

Leonardo glared at him. "Whatever. The point is, there's more to me than just ninjitsu, just like there's more to you guys as well. The same thing applies to Casey."

"Okay then," Donatello said, folding his arms. "What does Casey like, besides sports?"

There was dead silence, broken only by the sound of Mikey attempting to make cricket noises, followed immediately by a smack and a pained 'Owww.'

Donatello sighed and tried to start them off. "Well, motorcycles – I know he can fix them up. He's about on par with Raph in that department." He nudged his red-banded brother.

Raph grinned wolfishly as he came up with something. "He has a nice collection of, heh, _special_ magazines."

Mikey whistled. April glared. "You do know you are too young to be looking at those so-called, _special magazines_, right?"

Raphael held up his hands defensively. "I never opened them. I swear!" He winked. "But the covers are really...educational."

April's face was starting to resemble a thundercloud's. Donatello tried to steer the conversation back on track. "Anything else?"

Another silence ensued.

April blinked. "You mean we've all known each other for almost two years, and we don't know anything about each other except the superficial?"

Donnie frowned. "Well, you both know our history, and you've seen our stuff. No secrets here. April, we know a bit about your family. The story about your uncle, your family shop. I know something about your education considering who you used to work for – when I was researching Baxter Stockman and his mousers, well, let's just say he had a very strict and highly detailed list of requirements for the perfect job applicants. The fact that you were his personal assistant told me a lot."

April grinned, a bit embarrassed. "It wasn't that specialized."

"I beg to differ." The purple-banded turtle winked at her.

Leo shook his head, still frowning. "But what do we know about Casey? Besides what we've said?"

"His family's store burnt down when he was a kid," offered Raphael.

"He likes hockey," Donatello added.

"His mother is a very scary lady," Mikey said, nodding his head, remembering what he saw of her the year before at the farmhouse. "I mean, man, now we know where Casey gets his workout vibe from."

There was a third pause, as everyone racked their brain's trying to think of something to add to the list.

"That's all," April said eventually, joining Leo in a frown. "That's kinda...sad."

Leonardo silently agreed. Casey was an annoyance, but he was still one of them. A part of their family. He deserved more consideration then that. A quick look around showed a similar look on everyone's face.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it tonight," Raphael shrugged.

Mikey nodded.

"We can talk to him tomorrow. Find out all his nasty little secrets. But right now..." he paused, and rubbed his hands together with a mischievous look. "...now, we have to help April get over her first dumping!" He grinned at the redhead, draping an arm over her shoulders.

April squawked and smacked him again.

"I was NOT dumped!" she insisted. " I was just--"

"Blown over for another woman, yeah, yeah." Mikey led her over to the sofa and plopped himself down, pulling her to sit next to him. "According to my extensive comic research, as your friends and unofficial brothers, we are supposed to sit and watch sappy movies and think of all the ways we can dismember the 'dumper' on behalf of the 'dumpee'." He pointed at his arm, flexing the muscle teasingly. "I believe I am also supposed to offer you a shoulder to cry on. Go ahead. Soak it in tears. Just please don't get snot on my bandanna – we have tissues here somewhere."

April couldn't help but giggle, and she obligingly laid her head down on Mikey's shoulder, grinning at them. "You guys are too much."

Donatello was watching with a calculating smile too. "I think we're missing something, Mikey. I seem to recall that in situations like these, mass amounts of ice cream – particularly Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough and Extreme Caramel Ripple – are supposed to be ingested as soon as possible, to counteract the heartache."

Mikey's head snapped up. "Really?"

April snorted and poked him in the plastron. "Hey, I'm supposed to get the ice cream. Why do you?"

Mikey looked to be at a loss...for all of two seconds. "Because I'm the supportive one," he declared. "Your pain is my pain, ergo, your cure is my cure." He smacked his lips. "And Donnie bought a new bottle of caramel fudge sauce that would be perfect to add on! Donnie, whaddayou think?"

"I think I'm a bit concerned that you used the word 'ergo' in a sentence." Snickering, he turned and headed for the kitchen.

Raph and Leo exchanged looks and then grinned. "Hey, we wanna be supportive too!" Raphael joked, bouncing on to the couch on April's other side, clumsily patting her shoulder, and then shouted in the direction of the kitchen. "We're sufferin' on her behalf too! Bring enough bowls!"

April howled into Mike's shoulder, shoulders quaking with laughter.

Donnie came back out to the living room. Two, economy-sized tubs of ice-cream balanced on top of each other on one hand, and a stack of bowls and spoons were piled up on the other. He set them all down on the coffee table, and tossed the dishes to his brothers. Leonardo raised an eye ridge at the extra bowl.

"Donnie?"

"That would be mine," Splinter said calmly, appearing behind Leonardo, who jumped slightly at his Master's sudden appearance.

"Sensei?"

"I would never leave my adopted daughter in such turmoil," he said, smiling at them all. "As a family, we must all support her during this period of..."

"Her being dumped!" Mikey finished cheerfully.

"And the ice cream is an additional benefit," April added, wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks.

Splinter coughed.

"Er, yes." He handed his bowl to Donatello. "A serving of the Caramel Ripple please, my son."

Donatello nodded and got to work scooping out ice cream for all. Mikey picked up April's knapsack and began rummaging through it, ignoring April's mild slaps on his hands as she tried to take it back.

"Did you bring the sappy movies?"

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Please – like I'd bring romantic movies to THIS lair. I'd be barred from your DVD player for life."

Raphael nodded. "True."

"Here." April finally wrestled her bag away from the orange-banded menace, and pulled out a box set, tossing it at Raphael. Raph looked at the cover, his eyes widening.

"Lethal Weapon! Cool!" He jumped over the table to the DVD player.

"But you're not sticking to the whole being dumped routine," Mikey protested. "Crying, ice cream, man-threats and sappy movies. Won't we like, warp you, if we aren't careful of your girlie needs?"

"I have NOT been dumped! And my 'girlie needs' include ice cream, action movies that won't get me banned from the lair, and having my family with me." She smiled at him. "That last one I need all the time, by the way, not just when I've been dumped – not that I have been."

"But--"

"Besides, the scene of Mel Gibson's naked behind in the first movie is enough for me." She winked. "I'd rather see that then some sappy chick-flick that would have all of you providing unneeded commentary and additional sound track noises, like gagging, and farting whenever Prince Charming sits down."

"We only did that once," Mikey protested.

"YOU did that once," Raphael returned to the couch. He reached behind April's back and delivered a whap to Mikey's head. "Now be quiet – the movie's starting."

April accepted her bowl of ice cream from Donnie and looked around her, taking in the sight of her new-found family rallying around her – _even though I have not been dumped!_ – and smiled a bit sadly. One was missing.

She pushed the little, niggling thought of Casey and his mother to the side for the moment, deciding that first thing in the morning, she would call Casey and get the whole story.

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Casey stepped back out into the morning sunshine, reaching up to shield his eyes. _Of course, I forgot my sunglasses on top of everything else._ He glanced back at the building – a part of him wanted to go back inside. But another, larger part of him wanted to run for the hills.

_Or the Lair. That's an idea. Kinda._

One last glance at the hospital, and Casey turned, headed for the parking lot, tossing his keys absently in one hand.

'Come back around noon, dear,' his mother had said. It was just after nine. He had three hours to kill while his mother underwent some tests that had made Casey's head spin to listen to. He tapped the piece of paper in his pocket that had the names all written down – the doctor had tried explaining, but Casey kept getting upset, and confused, and finally, his mother had told him to go and get something for breakfast.

'Something that doesn't come from a drive-through clown's mouth' was how she put it. Casey let out a small laugh. His mother's concern for her son's eating habits notwithstanding, he knew true enough what had happened. All his time dealing with Master Splinter and the guys whenever he showed up had given him a good understanding of just how welcome he was in certain situations. He had been very kindly ejected from the hospital.

"Ah well," he muttered. "That place was giving me the creeps anyway." He ignored the uncomfortable thought that he would have to get used to it. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the change he'd found the night before as well as his keys, and wondered idly if MacD's still had their breakfast special running.

They did. Casey justified his choice by reminding himself he hadn't ordered it through the drive-through clown's head. He had taken a seat inside, like a civilized being. The food had been good, if a little greasy, and the coffee was hot and strong, just the way he liked it. The blast of caffeine seemed to perk his mind up somewhat, and he pulled out a brochure from his jacket pocket.

_**Small Cell Lung Cancer – Information You Should Know.**_

Casey shuddered, remembering what his mother had told him the night before...

_What do you mean you're dying? Dyin' of what?_

_Cancer, Casey. Lung cancer, to be specific. _

_Can't they treat it or something? Like how they cut off the tumors on all those ER shows?_

_The doctors say it's been categorized as extensive. It's spread to both lungs, and they want to test my lymph nodes. It's just a matter of time before it hits my other organs. I have some more tests tomorrow, and there are some treatments available--_

_--So you're gonna be okay, right?_

_--...Casey...all they can do is give me time. And not much of it. If it's caught early enough, sometimes you can get almost five years._

_...What did they give you?_

_...I've only had a few preliminary tests, kiddo--_

_--How long, Ma?_

_--...If I'm lucky, and I respond well to the treatments, I might have three months left._

_--...No...ma?...No..._

_-- Come here baby...I'm sorry I had to tell you like this..._

Casey rubbed his temple, trying to ease the pressure he could feel building, and glared half-heartedly at the brochure, as though it were the reason he was feeling the way he was. Opening it up, he was greeted with a picture of a large mass clinging to a lung, with tendrils snaking off in all directions. It was specifically done that way to show readers how the disease tended to spread in the lungs. All Casey could think of was how his mother's lungs looked like that, and it made him want to retch.

His mother had looked at it, commenting that hers probably looked worse, considering how heavy a smoker she'd been before quitting roughly four years ago.

The brochure slipped out of his fingers, landing on the table, still spread open to the disturbing picture. Casey slammed back the rest of his coffee, glared at the pamphlet some more, and then scooped it up, stuffing it back in his pocket.

Back outside by his bike, he realized it was only nine-thirty. He also realized he hadn't called April the night before after his mom and he had finished talking. It had been so late, he hadn't wanted to wake her. He grabbed his Shell Cell, and was about to press the button when he stopped.

She'd probably ask what was so serious that his mother had ordered him to break off their date.

_Should I tell her?_

Casey straddled his bike, resting his forearms on the handles, staring at the small phone. Would she even care? It wasn't her mother--no, that was unfair. April cared about everyone, and she even made peace with his mom at the farmhouse the year before. April would care, and she'd probably wanna come over and..._talk? Or something?_

Casey wrinkled his nose. Come to think about it, he didn't have a clue what friends did in these situations. They'd only gone on a few casual dates, two of them strictly as friends, so there was no 'official girlfriend'-type reason for her to be there.

Besides, April was still busy organizing her new place. The store had been finished first, an amazing fact, since it had been done back during the time the city had been literally at war with itself. He didn't even wanna know how much April had to – heh – _shell out_, in terms of hazard pay.

The upstairs however, had taken a bit longer. The reward money April had received for turning in the stolen jewels during the whole 'Nano' fiasco had almost been gone, and so she'd had been having one room done at a time, supplementing her dwindling funds with the meager income she generated from the store. Her new place had been doing fairly well – after the end of the destruction caused by the warring gangster factions,and the following invasion, re-construction had gone on in most of the damaged areas, and local proprietors were always searching for rare and interesting antiques to put in their new places of business, to give it an older feel.

But that meant she was busy. If she wasn't upstairs cleaning and supervising the construction crew, she was running her shop and doing searches for new stock. On top of that, she had self-defense training with Splinter and Leonardo almost every night and then she refused to go home until the nightly patrol was finished, convinced that on the one night she left, THAT would be the night they'd come home battered and bruised and in need of medical care.

This was just one more thing on top of all the rest, and Casey decided to hold off on telling anyone. She'd know something was up soon enough as it was, considering the decision he and his mother had reached the night before. He took one last look at the little heart picture next to April's name on his phone, and then snapped it closed, slipping it into his jean pocket.

Only to curse as the theme from Star Wars rang out from his cell phone instead, and he pulled it out, flipping it open. "Yeah?"

"Casey?"

Speak of the devil. "Uh, yo April. What's up?"

"Just calling to make sure everything's all right." Casey could hear her smile coming across in every word she spoke.

"Yeah, everything's cool."

"How's your mom? Is anything going on?"

_Think of something, think of something!_

"She uh, just wanted to do a little catching up. She was in town, on, uh, business. We don't see each other too often, so she wanted to see me while she was here." He swallowed hard. "You ain't mad at me, are ya?"

"Casey, it was your mother. Of course I'm not mad at you – I understand."

Casey exhaled. _Thank God_. "So what'd ya end up doing last night then?"

April giggled. Casey's knees went weak at the sound, and he was suddenly very glad he was on his bike instead of walking. "Oh, I visited the guys. 'M still here, actually."

"Really?"

"Yup. They were convinced that you dumped me, and so we had to have a consoling party, complete with ice cream, movies, and taking your name in vain."

Casey grinned. "Did Raph threaten to take my head off?"

"Uh-huh. Mikey was going to put it on a pike to stick in front of my store – something about serving as a warning to others? I smacked him with a pillow before he could explain in detail, and, well, it kind of exploded from there."

Casey chuckled. "Sounds like fun. In a sappy, non-skull-bustin' kinda way."

He could hear April's smile vanish. "It's too bad you couldn't have joined us. But you and your mother must have talked late into the night – I...I didn't want to intrude. But we can always do it again--"

"It's cool, April." Casey shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see him on his regular cell phone. "You and the guys have that special, I dunno, closeness. Like brothers and sisters. Besides, you know Raph wouldn'ta goofed off like that if I was there. Worked out best for everyone."

"Casey..."

"April, I mean it, it's cool." It really was. Casey didn't have any illusions – he had seen how protective the guys were with April the night he'd taken her along on his repair job at Coney Island. It was actually reassuring, knowing that the best fighters in New York considered the woman he...cared for, a sister. She couldn't possibly have better protection then that. "Look, I gotta go do some stuff. Can I call ya back later?"

"Of course," April responded eagerly. "Maybe we can meet up for lunch or something?"

_Crud_. "Would you have the guys hurt me if I asked for a rain-check?"

There was a slight pause. "That would depend on your reason."

Casey laughed nervously. "Ma's still in town...a meeting. I'm supposed to pick her up after I do a few things."

"I see." April sighed. "Okay Casey, you're off the hook for now." Her voice took on a teasing hint to it. "Just remember though, you owe me a date. One dinner-and-a-movie special. A fancy dinner. Maybe 'suit-and-tie' territory. I think two cancellations earns me that much, right?"

Casey swallowed. _A suit and tie? _In theory he had one stashed away somewhere, but it had been ages since he'd last seen it. "Ah...sure."

"Good." Her voice took on a hesitant tone. "You know, Casey, if something's up, we'd be glad to help you out."

"Nothing's up, April," Casey said automatically, and immediately felt like a heel for lying.

"Okay. But if something does come up, you'd better call. You got me?"

"I gotcha," he said softly. "Bye April."

"Bye Casey."

Click.

Casey slowly put the phone away and leaned back on his bike, closing his eyes. It was odd how even though he'd scrubbed off patrolling with the guys the night before, he was more tired then usual. Granted, he didn't get much sleep, his mother's news hitting him like a blow to the gut, making him feel sick and ache-y all night. He had almost been tempted to use the sleeping pills he kept for emergencies, but he hated the feeling he had when he woke up from a chemically-induced sleep. Casey Jones and drugs did not get along for a variety of reasons and not just the obvious.

Enough pity partying. Casey opened his eyes, squared his shoulders, and then started the engine. He had stuff to do before picking his mother up, and it sure as hell wasn't gonna get done by sitting in the parking lot of MacD's.

Tires squealing, he laid a strip of rubber down as he tore out of the lot, racing as though he could at least outrun his thoughts, even if he couldn't escape the fears in his head.

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At exactly twelve o'clock – which was odd for him, come to think of it - Casey strode into the hospital, a small duffel bag over his shoulder, heading straight for the elevators. He punched in the floor for the Oncology ward, and ignored the faint strains of the elevator music that tried to compete with his MP3 player. _Tried and FAILED. Denied! Take THAT, muzak!_

He stepped off on the correct floor and headed for the small waiting room he'd dropped his mother off in that morning. A pleasant-faced nurse in pink scrubs was scribbling notes down on a chart, and he coughed, trying to get her attention.

Her head whipped up, annoyed by the distraction, but then her eyes widened, and her lips curled in a smile. Casey tried not to preen, but he wasn't unaware of how he came across to the female species. Even April had thought he was a hunk the first time she'd seen him. _Until I opened my mouth, that is._

Wincing, Casey pushed that embarrassing memory aside, and smiled at the nurse. "Hi. I'm lookin' for Adelina Jones?"

The nurse smiled and batted her eyelashes at him. "Ah, you must be her son, Casey. She just finished her PET scan, and she's with Doctor O'Brian right now. I can let them know you're here?"

Pet scan? The only pets Casey knew of ate kibble or used litter boxes, so he was pretty sure that wasn't what she meant. "Finished what?"

"A PET scan – it's short for Positron Emission Tomography," the nurse trailed off as she took in the look of complete and utter lack of comprehension on Casey's face. "Tell you what – I'll tell the doctor and your mother that you're here, and then you can ask the doctor to explain everything. Does that sound okay?"

"Actually, I think he tried to tell me this morning, but, heh, I don't listen so good, 'specially the first time 'round. Thick skull and all that." Casey grinned sheepishly. "But yeah, I'll ask 'im again."

"Have a seat then, Mr Jones." The nurse picked up the phone, still flashing bright teeth at him. It reminded him of the scene in Jaws when the shark came straight out of the water, all white and pointy.

"It's Casey. Thanks."

A minute later, the nurse – Bianca, Casey saw on her name tag – led him down the hallway, chatting away at a hundred miles an hour. Casey had never been so thankful for the tolerance he'd learned in over two years of dealing with a particular, hyperactive, orange-banded mutant. He politely declined a coffee invitation by saying he was taken, before darting past her and closing the door behind him quickly. His mother looked up and grinned, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

"Still popular with the ladies, eh Arnold?"

"Sometimes, ma. Not so often though." Casey walked up to the large oak desk at the end of the room and shook Doctor O'Brien's hand. "Yo Doc."

"Hello Casey." Douglas O'Brien – Doug – greeted him warmly, and Casey relaxed a bit. Apparently the doc had forgiven him for the pestering and ranting he'd done earlier. "We've finished one of the tests already."

"Yeah, the nurse said something about a pet scan, but I don't think it was what I was thinking it was," Casey said awkwardly. His mother smiled dryly at his phrasing, and Casey brightened, knowing he was at least doing something right by cheering her up. "What is it?"

"Basically, it's just a picture we took of your mother's lungs, and chest, as well as several other organs. The picture is colored in varying intensities, which tells us about the chemical activity going on inside." The doctor folded his hands. "It's very good at showing us how far the cancer has spread."

"So how far has it spread then?" Casey asked worriedly.

"Well, we just did the test. It takes time to get the results back, and with PET scans, we need to be extra careful. Sometimes benign conditions – harmless ones – can register as cancer, which is why we have an expert diagnostician go over it."

Casey thought he understood. Sort of. Either way, he nodded his head, determined not to be kicked out again. His mother drummed her fingers on the chair rail.

"So what's next then," she asked, and Casey frowned at the tiredness in her voice. "Chemo? Radiation?"

"Eventually," the doctor allowed. "We still have a few more tests to perform. We've booked you for an MRI early tomorrow morning – around six o'clock, actually. We also need to schedule a procedure called a mediastinoscopy."

Both Jones's looked at him, confused.

"Again, basically, we make a small incision at the base of your neck, Adeline, and pass an instrument through to do a biopsy of your lymph nodes. We essentially pluck a small piece out, and stick it under a microscope. This will also help us determine how far the cancer has spread."

Casey was really starting to hate that word. He mentally added 'cancer' to his list of detested words and phrases, some of which included his own first name, 'Purple Dragons', 'Shredder', 'reporters' and 'sale at Macy's', the latter having been added after April had dragged him on a marathon shopping spree to refurnish her wardrobe.

"What's an MRI?" he belatedly thought to ask.

"It means Magnetic Resonance Imaging. We use radiowaves and high-powered magnets to produce internal images that can also show us the cancer spread." The doctor smiled reassuringly. "It's very safe, I promise you."

"When do we do all this?" Adeline asked, resigned.

"Most likely this evening. A mediastinoscopy procedure tonight combined with your early morning MRI, was one of the reasons I thought it best if you stay the night here at the hospital."

"What were the other reasons?" Casey wondered.

"Your mother has been complaining of fainting spells, right? Extreme chest pains, and--" The doctor flipped through Adeline's charts. "--at least one case of coughing up blood. I'd like to keep you here for observation, and run a few smaller tests, just to make sure there's nothing else that could be causing it."

Casey's eyes widened. "You mean she could have something else?"

"Highly unlikely," O'Brien said confidently. "Chest pains and coughing bloody sputum are common symptoms in small cell lung cancer. Same as your general tiredness. But I also have to consider your mother's age, and previous health record. It's not uncommon for older people to have conditions like angina, which are chest pains that are easily treatable with the right medication."

Casey frowned. "Ma's not that old." His mother was only forty-four, having given birth to Casey at the ripe old age of twenty.

"Enough Arnold," his mother said briskly. "It's just one night, and they're just tests. I may not like it, but if it has to be done, it has to be done."

Casey nodded, letting it go for the moment. "Well, I did what ya asked me." He handed her the duffel bag she'd requested. "I brung ya your toothbrush and toothpaste, your bag of hair stuff, some magazines, and one of your long sleeping tees."

"It's only for one night, you realize," O'Brien chuckled, an eyebrow raised at the full bag. Casey shrugged.

"Yeah, but even one night in those backless freakin' gowns is grounds for murder. They bunch up in places where bunching shouldn't be." He scowled at some of the more embarrassing memories of his childhood sports injuries.

"My boy knows me all to well," Adeline grinned wryly, accepting the bag without double checking. She trusted her son. "Can I go get settled in then, Doc?"

"Of course. I'll have Bianca take you to the ward – you've requested a private room, yes? – and then I'll stop by before your next test."

"Thanks, Doctor O'Brien," Adelina said, standing up, gripping the duffel bag handle with her left hand, leaving her right one free to shake his hand.

Casey got up as well, and copied her, shaking his hand firmly.

"Yeah. Thanks doc."

"My pleasure, Adelina, Casey. Remember, if and when you have anymore questions, you can always ask me, no matter how insignificant you think they are. If I'm not available, the nurses are there for you as well. All right?"

They nodded, and the doctor walked around his desk to the door, leaning out to summon Bianca who came running. She beamed at Casey, who flushed, and for a second, actually tried to hide behind his much-shorter mother, who snickered and moved away.

"Please come with me!" She chirped, and with a final wave at the doctor, they trailed after her down the hallway.

Casey found himself lost in thought as he followed the pink scrubs. The whole situation didn't seem real yet. A brief look at his mother's side profile showed her clenched jaw and the skin pulled tight around her strained eyes. Casey realized that the brief moment of levity she'd shown was probably an act put on for _his_ sake. He swallowed, his throat clenching for just a second.

Bianca walked into a small room and gestured for them to come in. Casey's eyes traveled the room, taking in the large, button-operated bed with the white sheets, the small bedside chair with the plastic covering, and the TV up in the corner displaying static and snow. Blinking his eyes hard, he wandered over to the window, only half-listening as the nurse helped his mother settle in.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly, and it didn't make sense to him. People in movies always found out about loved ones dying at night, or during rainstorms. 'Mood-setters', Donnie called them. Looking out at the carefully tended lawns of the hospital, and listening to the sounds of the birds chirping in the distance, Casey could almost believe that this whole thing was a giant joke, except he felt absolutely no urge to laugh.

The nurse was showing his mother how to call the nurses station if she needed anything.

"But of course, you can walk around if you want, up until it's time for the tests," Bianca finished with smile. Adeline nodded. The nurse clapped her hands, inclining her head at them.

"Do you have any questions then?"

About to ask what time his mother's next test was, Casey was interrupted by his Shell Cell beeping. His mother frowned at him.

"Did you change your ring tone Casey? I thought it was set to Star Wars."

Casey waved at her, backing out of the room. "Uh no, but it kinda...alternates. Like random shuffling on my MP3 player, ya know? 'Scuze me ladies, I need to take this now."

Bianca frowned. "Sir, we actually request that cell phones be turned off in the hospital. We do have a phone here in the room if you'd like--"

Still moving, he shook his head. "No, that's okay. I'll go outside and take it there, and turn it off before I come back in. Okay? Okay."

Out in the hallway, he glanced up and down and saw nothing more then a janitor at the far end, working his way toward the staircase. He jogged to the end, mildly cursing whoever was calling him as the Shell Cell beeped again, urgently. Taking the stairs three at a time, Casey loped outside into the fresh air and sunshine he'd been brooding over upstairs, and flipped open the phone.

"Whaddaya want?" he barked.

On the tiny view-screen, Raphael raised an eye ridge and gave him a mild glare. "Hello to you too, Sunshine. Bad time?"

_You could say that._ "Nah, just...in the middle of somethin'. What's up?"

"What took you so long to answer your Cell?"

"I just said I was in the middle of something. Or did you want me to open the freakin' thing with my ma and a nu—friend standing right next to me?"

"Amp down there, bro. Anyway, in case you're interested, we're doing a special run tonight. Donnie was hackin' away at the Battle Shell satellite radio, and accidentally picked up a conversation between Purple Dragon members. Apparently they've got something planned for tonight. Ya in?"

_YES_, he wanted to shout, but what came out instead was, "I can't."

Raphael didn't look too impressed. "What, you ashamed of us or something now? Canceling last night, blowing off your date with April AND passing up lunch with her, and now you don't wanna run tonight?" His eyes narrowed. "What's up with you?"

"Look, I gotta lot of stuff to do." He snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah – I was gonna call you anyway. Tell the others I won't be around for a while."

"Running out on us?"

"Can it, green boy. I'm takin' my ma up to the farmhouse. She's gonna be staying there for the time-being, so that means no trips north for a while."

Raphael was silent for a second, staring at him through the screen as though he were looking for something in particular. Casey bit back an annoyed sigh.

"What?"

"You okay there, Case?" Raphael asked gruffly, almost reluctantly. Casey blinked – and then grinned at his buddy.

"Why, you worried about me?"

The turtle snorted. "As if, you mask-wearing punk! It's just...it ain't like you to ditch on a Purple Dragon run."

Casey felt strangely calm for some reason. It _wasn't_ like him. If it had been Raph, he would have been saying the exact same thing. He shook his head, and looked at his buddy on the tiny screen.

"Some things are more important," he said finally. Raph raised the other eye ridge this time.

"Such as?"

"Such as...other things. Look, my ma's waiting for me, and I gotta start packing some stuff to take up. Have fun bustin' skulls, okay?"

Raphael sighed, and seemed to let it go for the moment. "Sure Case, whatever. See ya later."

The screen went dark. Casey shut it and stuck it back in his track suit pocket. His feet turned back in the direction of the hospital, and he was about to go back in when an ambulance suddenly raced by, sirens wailing as it tore up the driveway to the emergency bay. White-coated doctors and nurses in a rainbow of colored scrubs swarmed out of the automatic doors like ants, milling around the ambulance as the paramedics opened the up the back.

A figure on the gurney, almost invisible beneath the the tubes criss-crossing his or her body, a yellow mask like the ones you saw in airplane demonstrations covering half of the face. People were shouting orders, and someone shouted "She collapsed about ten minutes ago--" and then they were inside the building, the heavy glass doors sliding shut with a whisper.

Casey was still standing there on the small walkway along the building, and all he could think of was how apparently his mother had been in a similar situation. She had collapsed, and someone had called for an ambulance. She had been raced into a building like this, and just like _that_, with doctors and paramedics and stupid yellow face-masks.

She hadn't called him. He had found out a week later.

Didn't she trust him?

He stood there for a minute, feeling tension build up behind his eyes again, and he automatically rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to release some of the pressure. He had the feeling though, that it wouldn't be going away for some time.

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**End Chapter 1**

**End notes: **Chapter 2 is complete (and nearly as long) and is being checked and double-checked by the wonderful **One Small Monkey**. Same goes for chapter 3. Chapter 4 is in the beginning stages, but it completely plotted out – I just have to fill it in, and have it beta'd.

Ever since deciding to write this fic, I have been doing extensive research on lung cancer, taking the information and trying to make it flow in the dialogue without me sounding preachy or trying to force-feed you tons of information. I've read cancer-victim stories to see how they handled it, taken things from my own family experiences (who are experts in denial in some tings ) and tried to keep it as real as possible. I've known people who have had tests scheduled at all hours of the day (and night!), and all the medical terms here are real words and real procedures. I hope I've succeeded in making this a plausible plot. I plan on posting a page of links to sites that I used for my research so anyone who wants more info can take a look.

Please keep in mind that while I have been researching as thoroughly as I can, some info continues to evade, such as detailed chemo sessions (what exactly goes on, time-wise, etc etc) and so I have to do a little creative licensing. But I'll try to keep it as close to real as I possibly can. If anyone can fill me in on details, please email me at **stormy1x2 **at **yahoo** dot **ca**.

**C&C craved like Mikey craves pizza!** I'm working very hard to make this the best, most thorough and most comprehensive fic I've ever done (heck, this is the first fic I've ever asked for help via a beta with) and I'd love to hear what you think of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** One Hand Clapping

**Author:** Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)

**Words (fic portion) for chapter 2**: 6762 words (approx 16 OpenOffice pages) -- See? It's a little shorter this time.

**Rating: **PG13 for language

**Pairing: **Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad

**Summary:** **_Book 1_**. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed.

**Notes: **Here's where some new discoveries are made. Please keep an open mind on some of the ideas I'm introducing here – they can work, even with what we know as Canon!Casey, but the details on how won't be evident until the next chapter and so on. Here's hoping you enjoy!

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April waved as her last customer of the day left the store, the chimes in the doorway ringing out cheerfully. With a look of satisfaction on her face, she followed his tracks over, flipped the 'Open' sign over to 'Closed', locked the doors, and activated the metal safety shutters Donnie had installed over her windows.

Another day done. She reached her arms upwards, stretching as high as she could, letting out a soft moan of pleasure as her spine snapped and crackled its way back into something resembling normal.

"Mmmm..." That felt good. Whistling a nameless tune, she turned and ambled back to the register to count the days take. After a second count, she made a mark in the ledger she kept under the counter, and then put all the money in a zipped pouch before stashing it in the safe at the very back of the store. Tomorrow, she'd take some out to provide change in the register, and then she'd make a bank run around lunchtime.

April smiled contentedly at the thought. If someone had told her a few years ago at her graduation ceremony that instead of working at a high-tech lab, she'd be happily selling antiques, she probably would have called that person a liar.

Then again, at the time of her graduation, there would have been no way to know to factor in mutant turtles trained in ninjitsu, aliens that looked like talking brains in the stomachs of android bodies, mad scientists with no bodies, talking crocodiles, killer robots, turf wars, intergalactic battles, pissed-off dinosaurs and a murdering psychopath on the hunt for immortality. Being an antique shop proprietor was turning out to be wonderfully relaxing. It had the added benefit of being able to set her own hours, which came in handy when the aforementioned ninja turtles got caught in battles and needed her special touch to help them fight, or to make them feel better.

April walked out of the store through the back door, locking it behind her as well. She still didn't have a tenant for her basement apartment, though a few people had contacted her about the available space. With any luck, she'd have someone soon, which would mean some extra money.

A quick glance at her watch revealed the time, and she hurried up the stores, muttering under her breath. She was due at the Lair in an hour for her training with Leonardo and Splinter, who was supervising his son's fledgling teaching skills on his very first pupil. Maybe it was odd to be so excited, but she liked the workout it provided her with. Nature may have blessed her with her mother's looks and a good figure, but what nature giveth, junk food can taketh away. Since meeting the turtles, she had noticed a distinct increase in the amount of fast food she ate.

Besides, since Casey had left for upstate New York, it wasn't like she had any other plans. If not for her new-found 'family', April might have been depressed at the fact that she was twenty-four and practically friendless, in terms of what she considered 'normal people.'

Instead, she had four turtles, a rat, a crocodile, numerous homeless people, countless superheroes, some grateful 'rescuees' of the guys, space aliens, and a professor who had once been a robot who was now a computer program on Don's palm pilot, to call friends.

And of course, her vigilante, not-yet-completely-a-boyfriend, friend.

_At least I can't say my life is boring._

Speaking of the semi-boyfriend...April frowned as she changed into a loose pair of pants and a fitted t-shirt, the clothing she had adopted as a standard practice uniform. She had wondered about purchasing a gi, but both Splinter and Leonardo had waved her off on that, stating that it was best she learn to fight in the clothing she was most likely going to be caught wearing. Bad guys would not wait for her to change before attacking. Casey had agreed with the turtles, but then, he'd also admitted he liked watching her move in just about anything. Her frown turned into a rueful smile.

She wondered how he was doing. Ever since he'd called her the day after he'd turned her down for a lunch date and told her he was taking his mother up to the farmhouse, a faint niggling tendril of worry had been eating away at her.

He'd sounded so...distracted on the phone. And asking him why he was going yielded only a few stammered excuses that ranged from business, to vacation to 'stuff I gotta do'. Not exactly reassuring words.

If Casey was in trouble, he'd mention it. _Right?_ April wondered about that. If it were a fight, then of course he would. Casey loved a good fight, and was always happy to have the guys at his back.

"He can't be in too much trouble," she thought out loud. "His mother's with him – I doubt he could get away with much around her."

So if it wasn't fighting-based, what did that leave?

_Financial problems?_

Casey didn't work, outside of a few repair jobs that she knew about, and most likely many that she didn't. Still, that wasn't enough to pay for rent in New York, yet Casey never seemed to worry about money. Granted, his place was a dump, but it was a dump within walking distance of several major tourist attractions, which automatically drove the rent up.

She was curious to know if Casey's mother played a part in that. After all, the one consistent statement Casey seemed to come back to in all their conversations since the night his mother had arrived, was that she was conducting some sort of business. Did Casey work for her? Sporadically work, she amended. Casey was definitely not your typical, nine-to-five kind of guy, and Adelina definitely didn't seem like the kind of mother to pay all of her adult son's bills.

Closing her apartment door, she headed downstairs and out the side building door, keys to her van already in hand. Maybe she'd do a little background snooping later on and see if she could figure out what Casey was trying to hide. Donatello would probably help her – both of them enjoyed a good mystery.

She got into her van and started it up, checking her favorite radio stations until she heard something she liked. Then, turning it up, she headed for the 'abandoned' warehouse a few blocks away, singing as loud as she could, determined to put aside all negative thoughts for the time-being.

**969696969696969696969696969696969696****9696969696969**

Raph slammed his fist into the punching bag, over and over again. Sweat was freely flowing off him, his arms and legs humming with adrenaline. The thought of going on patrol and maybe kicking some Purple Dragon butt again in a few hours had him eager and on edge, and for him, this was the best way to take it off.

He leaped up with a twisting jump kick, sending the heavy bag spinning away wildly, meeting its return with a hard right cross, before catching the heavy weight with both hands, settling it. He knew the other reason he was so worked up. It had to do with a certain, fellow hot-head. It would take an act of divine interference to ever get him to voluntarily admit concern over his family and friends, but that didn't mean the feelings weren't there.

Raphael wasn't stupid. He knew Casey was hiding something from them, and part of him was pissed off that the hockey-faced goon gave them the slip without telling them everything.

From years of practice, he was able to ignore the little voice inside of him that said another part of him was worried about his friend.

_Worried? Me?_ Raphael snorted and struck the bag again, half-heartedly this time. _When that feeb gets back here, I'm gonna beat him black and blue for--_

_'Scaring you?'_ the little voice piped up again. Raphael growled and envisioned wrapping his hands around the voice, throttling it until it squeaked out its death throes and vanished into the background of his mind for good.

A shout of laughter erupted from the mats in the main room, and Raph turned his to see April attack Mikey, hampered by laughter as his irrepressible brother gave his famous girly-scream, dodging the attack with a look of panic on his face.

Raph rolled his eyes, a faint smirk curling his beak. _Who woulda' thought Mikey'd be the perfect sparring partner for April?_

**9696969696969696969696969696969696969696969696969**

April couldn't stop giggling. Her workout with Leonardo and Splinter had gone really well, earning her some well-deserved praise from her instructors. Then Mikey had stepped up to spar with her, grinning cheerfully and letting her hit him. The clown in the turtle's body would pretend to yelp in pain every time she connected, and the exaggerated faces of horror were enough to make her double over in laughter.

It was exactly what she needed.

Leonardo was a great teacher, and of course, Splinter was the best to supervise. But when it came to sparring, Leo had a habit of trying to correct her in mid-attack, which wound up confusing her more then helping her.

Raphael had sparred with her once but he was too competitive, and wouldn't allow her to lay a finger on him if he could help it. He rarely attacked her either, preferring to dodge and use her own momentum to drive her away, which frustrated her to the point where she wanted to grab the closest frying pan and whack him a good one. Donatello might have made a good sparring partner, but he was always wrapped up in a project or three, especially since obtaining the samples of Utrom technology that he hovered over as protectively as a mama bear and her cubs.

That had left Mikey to be her training partner, and it wound up being the perfect choice. Mikey wasn't a perfectionist, and he was secure enough in his abilities that he didn't need to compete with her. He let several attacks go through, and when Leo called him on it, he explained that the average street thugs and muggers – the only kind of opponent April planned on defending herself from, if she had no other choice – weren't as trained as the four of them. April's attack, while not enough to beat a trained ninja, was more then enough to strike down an untrained opponent. Before Leo could protest, Splinter had nodded in approval.

It had made a real difference to April's confidence. Whenever he let an attack go through, she knew that meant she had just prevented a mugger from trying to take her purse, or stopped a thug from hitting her. As a result, her fighting ability was growing in leaps and bounds.

When she had come in for the night's practice, despite the enjoyable ride over, a part of her was still missing Casey, worrying about him, wondering what he was up to. It was almost as if Mikey could sense her mood, despite his insistent claims of not being sensitive, and was doing his best to cheer her up.

Instead of their usual semi-serious spar, Mikey was being extra-campy, staggering back in mock-pain every time she hit him, screaming and pretending to run away whenever she launched an attack. Their 'fight' had deteriorated into a giggle-fest, and at one point, Mikey started waving his hands at her in a bad imitation of a girls', slap-happy cat-fight. She played along until she couldn't control herself any longer, and doubled over laughing, tears beading the corners of her eyes.

It took her a minute to recover, but when she did, Mikey was grinning happily at her, nodding his head as though something that had been wrong, had been set right. Maybe something had - she did feel much better than she had when she'd first arrived. Standing up, she moved in front of Mikey and bowed at him in thanks. Mikey returned the gesture, and before he could straighten up, she had him wrapped in a hug, pecking him on the cheek.

"Thanks Mikey," she said sincerely. She had needed that.

"Anytime April," Mikey said, a faint blush on his face. He winked at her, rubbing the spot where she had kissed him lightly. "Really, I mean that." He waggled his eye ridges at her.

She swatted him. He yelped, and then Splinter cleared his throat, calling their attention. A final bow for her instructors, and then practice was officially over. Mikey bounded away, intent on catching the last of the Jackie Chan marathon on the action channel, and April headed over to Donnie's work area, toweling off the last of the sweat she'd worked up.

A flying wrench nearly took her head off.

"Whoa!" she yelped, ducking for cover. Donatello popped up from behind a big metal contraption that was apparently his latest project. His goggles were hanging askew, grease was splattered all over his face and coveralls, and he was blinking rapidly at her, a screwdriver dangling from one hand.

"What? What?"

April managed to keep from grinning at the sight of Donatello in full 'work' mode. "Wanna watch where you're tossing tools, Don?" She retrieved the wrench and twirled it between her fingers, one hand on her hip. "You almost hit me."

Donatello looked appropriately contrite as he accepted the tool from her. "I'm sorry April. I didn't hear you come in. I was working on the engine of this Triceraton anti-gravity device I recovered from one of the crash sites the Foot missed when they were doing Saki's salvage operations. Apparently this was too damaged for them to attach any real value to." He rubbed his head sheepishly. "I guess I wasn't paying attention."

April studied the machine with interest. "I thought it looked familiar."

Don grinned. "Wanna give me a hand with it?"

"Sure. But I need to ask your help with something first." April told Donnie what was going on with Casey – well, what she knew of, at any rate. Donatello remembered the night of April's unofficial 'dumping' but he'd had his head buried too deeply in his inventions in recent days, to hear much of anything else.

"Casey's gone? And he didn't say when he was coming back?" That didn't sound like the vigilante.

April nodded, and folded her arms, staring at the ground thoughtfully. "I'm getting a bit worried. I mean, he blows me off twice, takes off with hardly a word to anybody, all of a sudden his mother's in the picture, but he won't tell us any details." She scowled. "The only thing I know for a fact is that he's definitely trying to hide something – I can't get a straight answer out of him whenever I try to ask him directly."

Donatello blinked. "So where do I fit in?"

The redhead looked at him. "I was wondering if you wanted to help me do a 'net search. Two hackers are better than one, after all."

The purple-banded turtle shrugged. "Sure, I guess. But what would we be looking for?"

April sat down on a sealed metal canister amid the rest of Donatello's spare parts and junkyard treasures, cupping her chin in one hand. "I was thinking maybe starting with his mother," she mused out loud. "Casey said she was in town on business, but he won't tell me what she does for a living. He started acting weird the night she showed up, so she _has_ to be a part of it."

Donatello nodded slowly. "That sounds like as good a place to start as any." Then his eyes flicked back to his abandoned anti-gravity device, a hint of longing lurking in the depths. "Umm...any particular time-frame you're looking at?"

She glared at him. "Donatello!"

He 'eeped. "I'm just wondering!" He protested.

April sighed. "Sorry. It's just...I'm starting to get worried. He's hiding things, and we've all seen how well it works out when we start hiding things. He's a part of this family, whether he wants to admit it or not, and that means he can't start disappearing and being all cryptic whenever he feels like it!"

Donatello blinked at her again. "...okay then." He set his screwdriver back in his toolbox. "Just let me clean up a bit before I touch my computer, okay? I've lectured to Mikey so many times about not eating at my desk for fear of spilling something, that it would make me a hypocrite to cover the keyboard in oil."

April smiled and reached out, drawing the shorter mutant into a hug. "Thanks Donatello. I appreciate the help."

Donatello returned the hug warmly, watching the redhead intently when she pulled back. "You're really worried, aren't you?"

She nodded.

Donatello echoed her gesture and then stood up, dusting his hands off with a firm clap. "So then let's find out what our resident vigilante is up to."

**9696969696969696969696969696969696969696969696969**

Casey was very thankful that the turtles, April and himself had made it a habit to come to the farmhouse every couple of months since the first time they'd made it a place of refuge during Leo's recovery a year and a half ago. Each time they made the trek up, they spent a day or two making it livable, mopping, sweeping, polishing and dusting. Other repairs took place over the course of the entire stay – like Mikey cleaning the chimney one day and winding up covered head to toe in soot. Or the time Donnie had tackled the hot water heater, fixing it so well that he wound up nearly boiling Raphael in the shower when he couldn't make it cold again.

Leonardo and Raphael had patched up the roof over a period of two visits, while Mikey and Donnie had taken the same amount of time to reinforce the front and back decks. The warmer months had seen them all taking turns on the riding lawnmower, tending the acres of land where the grass had been left to grow wild, making parts of the yard resemble an Asian jungle. Of course, it had only been a matter of time before Mikey and Donnie had been banned from the mower – Mikey, for crashing it into every possible obstacle he could find, and Donnie, for tampering with the engine and trying to add a fifteen speed on a machine designed for five.

Anyway, as a result of all their efforts, his grandmother's farmhouse was looking better than it had in years. Even though his mother had seen it briefly last year, she had still exclaimed over the changes a few months had wrought.

After opening up the bedroom windows to let in some fresh air, not much had been left to do but unpack the stuff they had brought, make the beds, and do a quick, cleaning touch-up. There was plenty of wood still stockpiled, leftover from the summer vacation wherein the guys had tried to outdo each other in wooden log production, and since the weather was so warm for early autumn, he didn't need to add to it.

Casey was shaken from his reveries when his mother called him.

"Arnold?"

"Yeah, ma?"

"I'm going to make a grocery run. We're almost out of everything we brought up. You want anything, dear?"

Casey stuck his head in the kitchen. His mother was at the table, one hand scribbling things down, the other massaging her temples. Another headache. The doctor had said that accumulated stress added to the symptoms she already had could cause migraines.

"I can go to the store, ma," he offered. "You can go lie down or somethin'."

"There'll be plenty of time for me to lie down when I'm dead," she muttered automatically, and then she froze. Her pen slipped from her fingers, clattering against the Formica top. Casey was there in a heartbeat, but then she shook her head, waving him away.

"Sorry," she said wryly. "I guess that was a poor choice of words, huh?"

Casey didn't know what to say. His mother had probably uttered that statement a thousand times over the course of his life, but never before did the words have quite the same meaning as they did now. Or the same impact.

All this time he'd been wondering why he wasn't screaming or crying, and he'd come to the conclusion that it didn't seem real yet. His mother looked tired, but not as sick as she was, and it was easy to pretend that maybe there had been a mistake, even though he knew full-well there hadn't been.

Looking at her now, he thought that maybe he wasn't the only person playing the denial game. It was going to catch up with them sooner or later.

His mother pushed off against the table, standing up, list in hand.

Apparently, it wasn't going to hit just yet.

"Ma, I said I'd go." Casey leaned over and tried to swipe the list, but Adelina Jones hadn't survived in a household with two males for nothing. She moved swiftly out of the way, smacking his fingers.

"When I'm ready to lie down, then I'll lie down. Right now, I'm going to the store while it's still open. This is your last chance to add something to the list before I choose your junk food for you, and I'd like you to keep in mind, that boxes of spinach crackers are on sale this week."

Casey plucked the pen from the table and wiggled his fingers at her. "Gimme," he said. He added chips, cheese crackers, Lucky Charms cereal, Twinkies and beer. Adelina read over his additions and rolled her eyes, but she didn't cross anything off.

"You're gonna end up with a gut like your grandpa's," was all she said as she left.

Casey watched her leave, her little blue Volvo stirring up the dust and gravel in the driveway, and then looked down at himself, patting the six-pack he felt under his tank top. Everything seemed in order – his mother was mistaken, obviously.

The phone rang, and Casey strolled back inside. "'Yo!"

"Mr Jones? Hi again! This is Bianca from the hospital calling, remember me? Is your mother available?"

Casey could almost swear he could see little pink hearts floating out of the receiver, accompanying that syrupy-sweet voice. "No, she just left. Can I give her a message or something?"

"I'm sorry to be calling this late. I was just calling to remind her of her first appointment with us tomorrow morning."

Casey choked. He'd almost forgotten, though _how_, he wasn't sure. His mother was going to begin her chemotherapy treatments. It was to be a weekly procedure, to allow her body time to recover from each round. Of course, that was _if_ she responded to what they prescribed for the moment. If it didn't look like the treatments were doing any good – they'd be able to tell after a few weeks – then she'd be switched to something else.

"She needs to be here for ten o'clock. She'll be here for a few hours, so tell her to bring a book or something. We do have magazine subscriptions, but new issues never seem to stay with us very long before growing legs and walking away," she giggled.

Casey nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "I'll tell her."

"Will you be accompanying her, Mr Jones?" she asked, her voice going a bit breathy. Casey rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I'll be there. Ten a.m, got it. See you then."

"See you soon!"

Casey hung up the phone a little harder than what was probably necessary. Normally he'd be flattered by the attention of a pretty lady, but ideally, the pretty lady wouldn't be reminding him about his mother's illness. Flirting under these circumstances just felt _wrong_.

He wandered over to the sofa and flung himself down, stretching his legs out along its length, stuffing a pillow under his head. A stack of papers had been piled up next to the end table, and he reached down, pulling them towards him for easy access.

The doctor had given him a ton of papers and pamphlets to help explain what his mother would be going through, and how he could best help her and himself. Casey had initially thought it odd that he would need help – until the doctor had gently pointed out one brochure in particular.

_**The Five Stages of Grief**_

In the near week they'd been up there, Casey hadn't even opened it yet. He glanced over at a second stack of papers – his mother had her own – and saw the same pamphlet peeking out from within the pile.

She hadn't read it either. Casey wasn't surprised.

Well, someone had to get the party started. Casey took a deep breath, put on his game-face, and opened it up.

_**Stage 1 – Denial.**_

**_In this stage, people deny that a loss has occurred, or is going to occur. The victim and the victim's family ignore the signs and symptoms and treat their lives as normal. Denial methods can include the _Excessive Fantasy Believing** **_that nothing is wrong, and that everything will be okay when they wake up. _**

Casey rubbed his eyes, feeling the tension building again. Certainly sounded like them, though after that phone call, it was decidedly harder to dismiss what was happening.

He skimmed through the rest of the section but found it hard to concentrate on the small print. His head was aching, and his eyes were starting to see double. He still wasn't sleeping well at night, so perhaps a nap was in order. Dropping the pamphlet back on the pile, Casey squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arm over his head, letting the other dangle to the floor. As he was drifting it of, it occurred to him that despite fitting the fantasy believing profile, he didn't have any delusions about everything being okay when he woke up.

Watching his father's store burn as a child had pretty much driven those pretty, hopeful thoughts away permanently.

**9696969696969696969696969696969696969696969696969**

It was his mother slamming the door an hour or so later that woke him up. Casey jerked upright on the sofa, eyes wide, heart pounding. "What? What! I'm up!"

His mother eyed him with amusement. "I can see that." She pointed out the door. "Go unload the car, dear. Half of that junk is yours, anyway."

Casey swallowed, firmly shoving his heart back down where it belonged. "You tryin' to give me a heart attack?" he groused, getting to his feet and slouching past her. She swatted him on the rear as he went.

"You're never too old to take over my knee, mister," she warned him, light glinting off her glasses almost malevolently. "Stow that lip and get to unloading."

Casey rolled his eyes and started pulling bags and boxes from the open trunk. It took three trips to get it all inside, piling so many on top of each other that it was a good thing he could pretty much navigate the house blindfolded if he had to. By the time the last box was deposited on the floor, his mother already had two bags unpacked and put away. Casey opened another one to do the same.

"Oh, ah, you got a call, ma," Casey suddenly remembered. "It was the nurse, to remind you that you got an appointment tomorrow for your treatment."

His mother had been putting cans of soup and vegetables away on the bottom shelf, and she paused midway, one hand resting on the shelf. "Oh yeah..."

Casey waited but his mother suddenly resumed her actions. He cleared his throat. "Ya gotta be there by ten."

"I know, dear. I have the reminder card on the fridge."

"Oh yeah. Okay then." Apparently there was not going to be a discussion about this. Casey could do avoidance – _no wait, the paper said it was denial_ – he could do denial with the best of them. "We gotta leave around eight or so then, yeah?"

His mother suddenly stood up. "Can you get the rest of these dear?" She gestured to the rest of the supplies, and Casey nodded. "Good. I think I'm gonna go have that lie-down you mentioned earlier."

"...okay, ma." He watched as his mother slowly walked out of the room, one hand absently rubbing her chest just under the collarbone. He wanted to go after her and make sure she was okay, but he had the feeling his presence wouldn't be welcome at the moment. If it was him, he wouldn't want anyone to see him in a moment of what he saw as weakness. When it came to downplaying injuries, he was the king (unless it involved pretty redheads rushing to soothe his fevered brow). He also knew the rules of the game - how to tell when someone else was playing, when to offer comfort, and most importantly, when to back off.

Casey Jones had learned that particular game at the knee of the undisputed champion who had just left the kitchen.

**9696969696969696969696969696969696969696969696969**

Mikey couldn't stand it. There was nothing on T.V, his controllers for his Play Station were still burned out from Raph and Donnie's last Space Pod Invasions marathon, and Leo and Master Splinter were meditating and wouldn't let him play his stereo. He thought about playing with Klunk, but a quick look revealed his kitten sleeping in the cat-tree Donnie had helped him build. He'd run out of batteries for his MP3 player the day before, but he didn't feel like making a surface run, he'd watched all of his DVD's a thousand times before, and his GameDude was lost somewhere in the black hole that was his bedroom.

Mikey scowled. Just because things had a habit of disappearing into his room, never to be seen again, was no reason to give it such a lame label.

Still bored, he flipped himself upside-down on the couch, letting his legs dangle over the back, and his head hang over the seat, staring at the blank T.V screens. He thought about grabbing a comic, but he'd read them all about the same number of times that he 'd watched his DVD's, and new issues weren't due out for another week. He couldn't even annoy Raph because his hot-headed brother had made himself scarce, going out for a evening ride on his cycle. He crossed his arms, scowling at the wall.

In the midst of all his dramatic sighing, low murmurs could suddenly be heard, and he let himself tumble off the couch, turning and clambering up it on his knees, peering over the top. April and Donatello were huddled over his computer, intent looks on their faces as they pointed out something on screen. Mikey grinned.

_Potential boredom alleviation, dead ahead!_

Placing his hands flat against the sofa back, he flipped up and over, landing softly, and waltzed over to the two resident egg-heads.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked in a sing-song voice, draping his arms over Donnie's shoulders and sagging against his brother, letting the seated turtle take all of his weight. The unexpectedness of the move made Donatello fall forward, and he slammed a hand against the desk to keep from whacking his beak against the monitor.

"Mikey!" Tilting his head back, Donnie glared at his younger sibling. "Was that really necessary?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Mikey snickered. He pushed off against Don's shell, and straightened, snatching a milk crate next to the table that had previously housed some spare parts – spare parts that were now scattered on the ground as Mikey upended it and plopped himself down next to the two 'net surfers.

"Pull up a chair, why don't you," Donnie muttered, rolling his eyes. Mikey grinned and knew he was safe. There was no point in Don getting angry – Mikey would let it roll right off his shell and nothing would be accomplished except the rising of Don's blood pressure. _I know him so well_, he thought happily. April leaned around him and shook her finger at the rambunctious interloper.

"Behave Mikey, and we'll let you stay."

Mikey opened his eyes as wide as he could and crossed his entire chest in a huge 'X' as he nodded. "I always behave," he added on to the action. "I'm the good one."

"I thought you said you were the pretty one?" Donnie shot him a sly look as he typed furiously.

Mikey nodded solemnly. "That too. I'm a turtle of many talents." He leaned over. The milk crate was considerably shorter then Donnie's desk, so he wound up resting his head against his brother's arm, watching with interest as his brother's fingers flew across the keyboard. "So what are you two looking for?"

There was no immediate answer, and Mikey looked up curiously. Donatello had a sheepish expression on his face that was echoed on Aprils' – though her face also had a faint hint of red on her cheeks. Mikey grinned.

"I finally caught Donnie looking up porn!" he crowed. "And April, you're helping him? Geez, and no one invited me?"

Donnie spluttered and April reached around, giving Mikey's head a very Raph-like smack.

Mikey gaped at her. "You hit me!"

"You deserved it!" she retorted, one lip quirking upward in a reluctant grin. He caught the smile threatening to emerge, and leered at her playfully.

"Do it again!" he entreated, waggling his eye ridges. "Ooh baby!"

Donnie was almost turning purple – an impressive feat, given his natural, olive-green complexion – and April had given up, trading scowls for giggles.

Satisfied, Mikey looked back at the monitor. One of Donatello's own search engines was up, and the name **Arnold** **Casey Jones** was highlighted in the search box. The orange-inclined turtle blinked in surprise. "Why are you looking for things on Casey? Isn't he at the farmhouse?"

"Yes, but we don't know why," April sighed, chewing her lip idly. "He's hiding something from us, and I want to know what it is."

Mikey frowned. "Guys, that is a gross invasion of privacy. Casey has every right to downtime of his own, and he doesn't deserve to have people snooping into his life and spying on him – especially people he considers close friends and family!"

April and Donatello gaped at him in astonishment, jaws hanging open.

Then Mikey smiled. "Okay, so the Leo-rant is officially concluded." He rubbed his hands together, smirking in anticipation. "So what have we found? Any embarrassing photos or stories we can use for blackmail purposes?"

The two web-savvy techs exchanged looks and rolled their eyes simultaneously, Donatello, apparently resigned to the fact that Mikey was now a part of the info search, pointed at one of the links that had popped up in the search engine. "That might be something interesting."

"_Fiametta Esposito Passes Away from Heart Attack,_" April murmured, reading the headline. She read the article out loud. "_The widow of business tycoon, Dominic Esposito died at 'Our Lady of Mercy Hospital' at age 61, attended to by her daughter Adelina Jones, and her grandson, Arnold Jones. Fiametta Esposito was named Chairman of the Board of Esposito Communications after the death of her husband in a car accident in 1994. Control of the company is speculated to be turned over to her daughter, Adelina Jones, whose own husband passed away in a gang-related incident in 1993_."

"Esposito Communications," Donnie mused thoughtfully. His fingers fingers danced across the keyboard. "Let's see if they have a website."

They did. Finding a list of board members was easy, and a quick scan revealed Adelina Jones listed as the past Chairperson, but not the current. Donatello found a link marked 'For Media Usage' and clicked, bringing up a page full of newspaper articles that Esposito Communications had appeared in.

There were several articles of awards being given, or scholarships donated, but about halfway through the second page-down, Donatello spotted something. The article was entitled 'Esposito Communications Chairperson Steps Down.' He clicked again.

_Adelina Jones, Chairperson of Esposito Communications, has stepped down from her position, and Richard Paxton is stepping up._

"_I believe this is best for everyone," Adelina spoke at a press conference at the EC building. "Richard is the best choice to take the company to the next level, and I wish him the best of luck in his new position."_

_Adelina took over the position from her mother, Fiametta Esposito, who died less than two years ago from a heart attack. She was the widow of Dominic Esposito, who created the company over thirty five years ago, at the age of 27. One of the principle heirs, Adelina retains 15 percent controlling interest in the company, as does her son, Arnold Jones. Her son's shares, as well as his inheritance from his grandmother remain in trust controlled by his mother until the age of 21. _

"Casey owns stock options?" Mikey blinked. "Is it just me or does he not seem like the portfolio type?"

Donatello and April ignored him. "All I know about Esposito Communications is that they have a sub-group working with phone service providers to deliver services like web-based conference calls and video conferencing," April said thoughtfully.

"It says here that EC was instrumental in helping develop the vid-screen technology that a lot of companies use," Donatello pointed out, reading further.

Mikey scratched his head. "You mean like in Star Trek when they used to say 'Put it on screen'?"

Donatello nodded. "That's right, Mikey. You know how people talk through TV screens and monitors in a lot of the companies we've been in? Like Stocktronics, or when we went through the Shredder's building? That's actually new technology – well, old, by computer standards – but it's essentially video-conferencing on a large scale." He held up his Shell Cell. "Kind of like how we can see each other when we use these."

Mikey thought he understood. "You mean the Shell Cells are complicated tech stuff?" Considering Donnie had built them from spare parts, Mikey thought that gave him a pretty good understanding on just how smart his brother really was.

"Sort of. I mean, do you see everyone using this kind of video-screen for everyday phone calls?"

Mikey frowned. "Umm...no?"

"Right. The technology is here, but not everyone can afford it, and not everyone has the capability for it. Bigger companies tend to have bigger computers with tons of power and better video streaming. What Esposito Communications is trying to do, is bring the same technology used in the Shell Cell, to everyone who has a land-line."

This was getting complicated again. He blinked wide-eyed at his brother. Donatello rolled his eyes.

"Let's just say, it's a good market to be in, and EC has been doing very well financially for the past few years." He clicked on another link, and his own eyes widened to Mikey-esque proportions. "_Very_ well."

April and Mikey looked at the figures on the screen. Mikey whistled appreciatively, and April gasped.

"Casey's that rich?" Michaelangelo exclaimed in shock. His brother shook his head.

"Not necessarily. These are the annual earnings of the entire company. But he has shares in the company, so he's definitely better-off then we thought. Not to mention that apparently he inherited funds from his grandmother, who was the wife of the founder, so who knows how much he really has?"

"Well, she did donate most of her money to charity," April noticed. "And says here that Casey's mom and he are two of the heirs, which means there are likely to be more. Still, I guess I don't have to worry about Casey being in financial trouble. And I suppose his mother could be here about business, even if she's not actively involved in running the company." She threw up her hands. "For all I know, she's here reviewing her stock portfolio and making Casey do his at the same time."

"You thought the Case-man was having money problems?" Mikey looked at them quizzically. "Why'd you think that?"

"Well, he doesn't work, yet he has that classic car, his motorcycle, that apartment, his leather jackets, and...well, I guess I don't have to wonder how he's paying for everything anymore, do I?"

"Guess not."

April gazed at the numbers on the screen again, and echoed softly, shaking her head. "No, I guess not."

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**End Chapter 2**

**End Notes: **No, Casey is _not_ a billionaire in hiding! But he does have money. Why he's never said anything...well, I guess you'll just have to tune in to the next chapters, won't ya?

I hate and detest the way FFNet keeps removing my formatting for POV changes. If not for the convenience, I would refuse to post here anymore. Oh well. We must learn to live with what we cannot change. ** . ;**

Special thanks to those who have reviewed thus far. It's very encouraging and makes me want to write more. As a result, chapter 4 was finished last night (needs to be beta'd but it IS finished) and chapter 5 is halfway done. See what happens when you review? You INSPIRE!

Again, while I am attempting to remain true to the bulk of the series, we are going to now see some...modifications. Creative licensing, if you will. I hope you enjoy the next part, and please, as always, let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** One Hand Clapping

**Author:** Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)

**Words (fic portion) for chapter 3**: 8012 (approx 18 OpenOffice pages)

**Rating: **PG13 for language

**Pairing: **Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad

**Summary:** **_Book 1_**. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed.

**Notes: **I'm starting to think no one's reading this thing except Engelina, Ame Musashi, and my wonderful error-fixers/ego slappers Red and OSM. Oh well, comments or not, I still plan on posting this monster. To those of you who have reviewed and offered tips and encouragement, thank you – it means the world to me.

This section was beta-read by the very helpful and generous **Red Rebel**. Thanks for your help! I went back in and re-did a few small things, so any errors left are mine alone.

...

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...

Casey had never been one for watching much TV, unless it was the news, and the bit of stupidity currently on display in the Oncology waiting room screen was convincing him he wasn't missing anything. On the fuzzy screen, two teams were decorating a room in each other's homes, and one so-called 'designer' was doing something with day-glow orange paint and fuzzy dice that Casey wasn't sure was even legal.

He snorted. The only touch up show he'd ever thought worth his salt was Pimp My Ride, but he hadn't seen an episode of that in months. He used to think about submitting his Chevy, _but_, he thought to himself, _Donnie, Raph and I could probably trick it out better than anything Xzibit and Mad Mike could come up with_.

He'd been in there for almost an hour, and apparently it'd be another two before his mother would be finished in the glass encased room at the end of the hall. The doctor had told Casey he was welcome to join his mother, to be there with her, but one look at her face made him decide to leave her to it. He did mention that he'd be in the waiting room though – it wasn't like he was running out of the building.

Though he had to admit, he was kind of glad to be out of the room. His mother was being given her chemotherapy drugs in the form of an I.V, and there was nothing to do except sit, and wait, and watch it drip, drip, drip into his mother's arm. Frankly, the idea freaked him out.

Attack him with a blade, try to run him off the road, aim a laser gun at his face, put him up against a three-hundred pound, pissed off Triceraton with nothing but a baseball bat and a prayer - that was all good, as far as he was concerned.

_Just keep the needles far, far away_.

Casey forlornly toed the duffel bag he'd brought that was lying on the ground. He'd brought a couple of cycle mags, but he didn't really feel like reading them. His stomach growled, and he rubbed it automatically. Breakfast had been almost four whole hours ago.

"Hungry, Mr Jones?" chirped a familiar voice. Casey stifled a groan as Bianca walked up to him, flashing him another blindingly white smile. "I'd be happy to show you to the cafeteria."

"That's okay," Casey said, shaking his head. "I know where it is. I can get there myself."

"Are you sure? I do have some free time, and it's certainly no trouble." She leaned in closer, and Casey backed up a step.

"No, no, I'm good. Really. In fact, I'm going there right now. Myself. Alone." He pointed down the hallway at the elevator. "So...yeah. Going now. I'll see you, uh, later, okay?"

The nurse beamed, and he took the chance to escape. The elevator arrived within seconds of his pressing the button, and he ducked inside quickly, jabbing the 'close door' button repeatedly until the heavy doors slid shut. As the elevator began its descent, Casey gave himself a mental smack for acting like a scared rabbit.

_For freak's sakes, she's a nurse, not a foot soldier. She's just a friendly, helpful nurse who might be crushing on me, and I act like I'm being targeted by an Amazon warrior princess._

A search of the cafeteria yielded a dubious looking mystery meat covered in a runny, gray substance that the serving lady swore was gravy. Casey decided it was in his stomach's best interest if he played it safe, and grabbed one of the sealed, pre-made salads. As an afterthought, he snagged a ham and cheese sub. He picked up two Cokes and then headed for the cashier.

Dumping the dressing into the salad, Casey wolfed it down, suddenly ravenous. It was really good too, full of veggies and walnuts. He knew the guys would find it hard to believe, but Casey was actually very fond of healthy food. His mother had raised him to be aware of what he put into his body, especially when he'd started working out with a vengeance during high school. He may live on a steady diet of fast food because of the convenience, but if he had the choice, there was no way he'd pass up the healthier option.

He tossed the container in the trash, and headed back upstairs, gnawing on the end of the sub he'd unwrapped, shoving the unopened cans of soda in his bag for later. He took the stairs instead of lazying his way up the elevator, jumping them three at a time, all the way up to the fourth floor to burn off some energy.

Pushing the stairwell door open, he stepped into the brightly lit hallway and headed for the Oncology ward. As he did so, the doors at the far end of the hall opened up and a familiar, dark-haired man walked through. Casey stopped short, his sub half-in, half-out of his mouth.

Eyes met across the hall, one pair wary and unsure, the other pair confused and surprised. Casey swallowed the mouthful of ham and cheese and blurted out, "Sid?"

...

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The last time Casey had seen his cousin, had been a few months ago at the farmhouse, and it wasn't an altogether pleasant memory. Sid had owed money to a sect of the Purple Dragons, and had come to the farmhouse to look for hidden treasure he swore their grandpa had buried somewhere on the property.

It wasn't exactly a proud moment in the Jones family history – at least, not to anyone besides his grandfather – but his grandfather had claimed to have robbed a train back when he'd been a young man of twenty-six.

Jacob Jones had always been a sort of con man throughout his life, always looking for a way to make a quick buck. Casey had learned from his father about doing the right thing, and it had always amazed him that his dad had turned out so well, even with a father like Jacob. He credited the honorable part of his father on his grandmother, Cassie.

Cassandra Wells had married Jacob Jones knowing that he liked to play...a little _loosely_ with the rules. She had once told Casey and Adelina that it was the bad boy in Jacob that she had initially been attracted to. Her parents hadn't wanted her to have anything to do with him, so of course, the first thing she did was marry him when she got the chance.

Casey was pretty sure that his grandmother hadn't known about the train robbery until well into their marriage. Jacob had probably hidden the loot somewhere safe until he and his wife had moved to the farmhouse in 1984.

The farmhouse had actually belonged to his maternal grandparents initially. Adelina's mother and father, Fiametta and Dominic Esposito, had bought the place in 1972, a few years after Dominic had founded Esposito Communications. By the time Casey had been born ten years later, the company had been really starting to take off, and in 1984, the Esposito's had moved back into the city to be closer to the business.

They had allowed Cassie and Jacob to take over the farmhouse, the pair having hit a patch of financial difficulty by then. His grandfather had a history of shady dealings with the city's underworld, having been arrested once for petty theft in 1975, and fined two other times for illegal gambling. As a result, he had found it difficult to find gainful employment. The Esposito's were not fond of Jacob, but Cassie and Fiametta had become the best of friends soon after the marriage of their children – their daughter, Adelina, and Cassie and Jacob's son, David Jones. Fiametta and Dominic had the money, and felt the least they could do was let them take care of the upkeep on the farmhouse for them.

Casey speculated that his grandfather had moved the loot to the farmhouse with them, and had hidden it on the property near the future burial place of his dog Spot. Jacob Jones had died nearly ten years ago in 1996 as a result of one too many bad deals, killed in a drive-by shooting that had never been solved.

But apparently, Jacob had sensed a shady kind of kindred spirit in Sid, and had told him of his daring robbery, and that the money lay hidden somewhere on the grounds. Sid had come to the farmhouse to find it, to pay off his debts to the Dragons.

Casey had greeted his cousin with a fist to the mouth. His cousin had pretty much disappeared a couple years ago, and Casey was sure he would have been happy if he'd never seen his cousin again.

Up until his cousin's first day of high school, Casey and Sid had been inseparable whenever they visited the farmhouse. Then, in grade nine, a fourteen-year-old Sid had fallen in with a young group of punks that had ties to the newest gang in town, the Purple Dragons. Even after Casey's dad had been killed defending his store from them, Sid had still maintained his allegiance to the Dragon's, and Casey's hero-worship of his cousin had turned to bitter hatred.

Sid's parents had washed their hands of their son after he had left home at seventeen. Casey had been twelve at the time, still in shock over his father's death the year ago. His hatred of his cousin, and the Dragons had grown like an untamed wildfire. Before he'd come to the farmhouse to search for buried treasure, Casey had only seen Sid once before since those times, and that was at the reading of Grandma Fiametta's will when Casey was sixteen. Being the son of Fiametta's best friend Cassandra, he had received a small amount of money he'd no doubt squandered on illegal activities.

When Sid had shown up that night with a group of Dragons in tow, Casey and the turtles had just been settling into the makeshift infirmary they'd set up in the attic. They were fresh from their final battle with Shredder on board his spacecraft, and despite the Utrom's miraculous healing techniques, they were still a far ways from being fighting fit. It had taken some creative battling to fight while wrapped in bandages and covered in plaster casts, and still remain hidden from view.

They had triumphed in the end, of course, and Casey could still remember the shocked look on Sid's face when April had flipped the dragon leader Spuds ass-over-teakettle, using her newly-learned martial arts skills. Then Casey had solved the riddle of the location of the stolen loot, and Sid had done an abrupt turnaround, hesitantly offering to share whatever he found with his cousin.

That had stunned him. He and Sid hadn't had a civil moment together in years, and somehow, it was like in the course of that evening, Sid had managed to finally grow up a bit. Maybe it was seeing his oh-so-tough Dragon pals getting beat up by shadows, a slim redhead and himself, or maybe it was something Sid had been contemplating before he'd ever arrived, but either way, it had gone a long way towards calming Casey's temper.

They'd located the box with the supposed loot together, and had opened it to find their grandmother had beaten them to it.

Cassandra had found the money, and in an apparent effort to make up for her husband's villainous ways, she'd donated the stolen loot to various charities. All of the money had been replaced with charity receipts. Casey and Sid had taken one look at the box and had burst out laughing. They should have known that their grandfather couldn't have kept their grandmother in the dark.

Sid had left soon after, he and Casey's parting a lot more tolerable then it had been eight years before. He hadn't seen his rogue cousin since. Now, in the Oncology ward hallway, Casey looked his cousin up and down warily.

"Hey Case," Sid said gruffly. His tone was quiet, subdued. Casey narrowed his eyes.

"If you're here lookin' for a handout-"

"Nah, s'not why I'm here." Sid shoved his hands in the pockets of his long coat, flicking his eyes around the hall. "Your, uh, mom told me what was going on. I called Auntie Adie a few weeks ago. I was tryin' to get my mom's phone number."

Casey blinked. "So you knew before me too?" Another thought occurred to him at the same time. "Since when do you want to talk to your mother?"

Sid's dad Andrew was the older brother of David Jones, Casey's own father. He and his wife Megan had always been a bit aloof with the rest of the family. After their son had cut all ties with them, they had moved on with their life, and Andrew had accepted a job transfer in 1999, to Australia to head up a new project on the outskirts of Melbourne. Casey hadn't seen or heard from them since. It wasn't surprising, considering what had been going on in his life in the past seven years. He'd spent most of it tracking down and attacking Dragon members. Not to mention the last year and a half of his life which was almost too crazy for even himself to believe – and he had _lived_ it.

But to hear that his mother had kept in contact with Sid's parents...well, she'd never told _him_. And Sid had known too, even though Casey couldn't see him speaking to his estranged parents. He raised an eyebrow.

Sid shrugged. "Yeah, well, after we..._talked_, last time, I, uh, kinda called your mother." He gave a rueful grin. "Let's just say that spunky redhead of yours knocked some sense into me. You drove off the Dragons – hell, Case, you defended me, got me out, and after all I've done to you and our family." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "It got me thinkin', and after a while, I decided I wanted to...call home, you know?"

Casey relaxed a fraction. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. But I...I uh, lost my parent's info." He ducked his head. "Let's just say, up until our little reunion, I hadn't been too careful about keeping up to date on family."

"I can relate to that," Casey reluctantly admitted. He'd gone almost eight months without talking to his mother after meeting the turtles and April, and even longer then that back when his thoughts had consisted of little other than Purple Dragon hunting.

"So I looked your ma up in the book a couple weeks ago, and called her. We got to talkin' 'bout stuff." A spark of humor touched his face. "Man, I haven't been reamed out like that since I was a kid! She let me have it with both barrels, dude, I'm tellin' ya!"

Casey couldn't help but snicker. "I'm surprised you're still alive, cuz!"

"Me too! It's a damn good thing this was on the phone. Lucky for me, I didn't have the guts to show up at grandma's old place in person." Sid suddenly gave a very small smile. "_Cuz_...we haven't called each other that in years."

Casey cleared his throat. "Yeah."

Sid watched him for a minute, but when nothing else was said, he spoke up again. "Casey?"

"What?"

"Do you think..." he paused, and then tried again. "I mean, I know I've been a real ass since high school, but I was wonderin'..." he stopped again.

Casey waited.

"Look, you and your ma are gonna be goin' through...stuff. And I know I ain't 'zactly your favorite person in the world anymore, but I...I want..." he stopped for a third time, and then said flatly, "Forget it, I sound like a fuckin' idiot--"

"Sid, hang on a sec." Casey interrupted him. He glared at the rail-thin man. "I know what you're trying to say, and I want to point out that you really friggin' hurt me, you know? You were my _idol_, man – I looked up to you when we was kids! And then you turned to the Dragons, even after you _knew_ what they did to my parent's store – what they did to my dad!" Casey's fists clenched. "That kind of betrayal...for months, I thought I was gonna hurl, every time I heard your name mentioned. You _sickened_ me."

Casey's cousin was paling more and more with every word. "Case-man..."

"_Case-man_...you were the first person to start calling me Casey. I remember you tellin' ma and pop that Arnold was a stupid name and it'd get me beaten up in school," Casey said reminiscently. He relaxed his hands a bit, but his body was still stiff with tension. "You started calling me Casey instead, and I thought you were so cool that I told everyone to call me that from then on."

Sid said nothing, only watched.

"You ran away," Casey said, his voice soft and thick with remembered betrayal. "Not only did you join the Dragons, but you left the family. Your parent's were devastated – they didn't know whether you were alive or dead. Then you showed up at Grandma Fiametta's will reading, just to get your hands on the money she'd left you for some reason. You weren't an Esposito by blood, but she loved you anyway and you repaid that love by grabbing the money and running away again!"

Sid was looking at the floor now, hands shaking.

"You didn't show up or even call when Grandma Cassie died," Casey said almost brokenly. "Your parents came back for the funeral, and they kept looking around, hoping to see you come in, even if it was just for a minute. You told them you wanted nothing to do with them, with any of us, but they still had hope that you'd change your mind."

"It's too late then, right?" Sid asked roughly, still staring at the floor. "Is that what you're telling me Casey?"

"You're an ass, Sid, and you owe apologies left, right and center to everyone you hurt when you betrayed us," Casey said, staring straight at him. Both of them stood stock still, waiting, Casey searching for something in Sid that he wasn't sure existed anymore. Long minutes stretched out between them, hard and tense. Then, a tiny smile appeared on Casey's face. "But I'm glad you're here to deliver 'em. In person, no less. Better late than never, ya know?"

Sid's head snapped up and he looked at Casey in disbelief. "C-Case?" He stammered out.

"S-Sid," Casey said mockingly, before stalking over and pulling his cousin into a rough hug. After a shocked second, Sid's arms slowly came up to return the embrace, and then suddenly, Casey's ribs were in danger of being cracked in pieces.

It flooded over him, the feeling of having a family member return to you, and Casey suddenly remembered all the times he'd gone running to his older cousin when he was younger. Scraped knees that needed a Batman band-aid, or frog that required a jar with holes in the lid. Memories of summer nights on the barn roof counting the stars, swimming in the pond out in the woods, and laughter, always laughter, especially when Sid had learned to drive the tractor at the tender age of eleven. He'd driven it right into the side of the barn, making a six-year-old Casey laugh until he'd gotten the hiccups.

Sid had done terrible things, but he hadn't always been that way. He was family, and no matter how hard you try, you can't erase the bond of blood that ties you together. You can't hate family. You can be disappointed by them, hurt by them, angry with them – but you can't hate them, even when you tell yourself that you do. Casey felt the last of his anger drain away.

Eyes tightly squeezed shut, he gripped his cousin fiercely, feeling the older man tremble under the weight of his acceptance. His cousin felt frail to him, smaller, which was odd, like their positions had been reversed. Despite their ages, now Casey was the strong one, the one with purpose in his life, teaching his older cousin to live right, as naturally as Sid had once taught him to swim and climb trees.

His cousin had a lot to make up for, but at least he was there. That was something. A beginning. Casey soaked up the feeling of happiness of his cousin's return, and thumped him on the back, hugging him tighter.

And somewhere in the midst of his happiness, came a great wave of relief that someone else knew the burden he was carrying. He still didn't feel ready to tell April or the guys about his mother, but Sid already knew. Sid knew and he was there, and for the first time since his mother had told him about her cancer, Casey felt that damnable building pressure ease.

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Adelina closed the door behind her as she left the chemo room. The nurse had put a cotton ball against the small hole in her arm where the I.V had fed into her, and she held it there for a few more minutes. Pulling the cotton away, she noted that the bleeding had stopped, so she threw the ball into the trash and pulled her sleeve back down from her shoulder where it had been rolled up.

Two hours of sitting still was surprisingly exhausting. As per the suggestion made by Bianca the night before, Adelina had made sure to bring a selection of magazines to leaf through during her treatment. However, her attention had kept circling around back to the drugs dripping into her veins, and the last half hour had been spent watching it dwindle away into her system.

The doctor wanted to talk to her before they started her radiation therapy. Adelina knew from the explanations from Doctor O'Brien that it was just a needle full of medicine that would be injected near the cancer site – her chest. The thing was, the 'medicine' in the needle was actually a radioactive substance that would attempt to shrink or outright kill cancerous cells. Adelina had the disturbing image of herself glowing bright green, growing fifty feet high, and trying to stomp all over downtown New York. Despite all her churning thoughts and fears, she couldn't help but smile a bit at the idea. She'd probably look good in green.

The doctor's office loomed ahead, and Adelina paused to knock on the door. Past the office was his secretary's desk, and beyond that, the Oncology waiting room where Casey had probably been pacing the entire time she'd been gone.

Adelina felt a little bad about kicking her son out, but she wasn't ready to let herself show her reluctance or her worry to him. She was the parent in this situation. She had to be strong. She would be strong.

"Come on in," the doctor called out, and Adeline turned the knob. "Hello Adelina. You just finished your first session – how do you feel?"

"Tired," Adelina admitted, taking a seat. "And a little...dizzy, I guess. Nothing too bad."

"That's good, that's good," Douglas nodded. "Though keep in mind, the symptoms are most likely going to get stronger very soon. Did you read any of the information I gave you last time?"

Adelina thought about the pile of papers in the farmhouse living room, and gave him a wry look. "Not exactly."

The doctor chuckled warmly. "You're not the first patient to tell me they haven't done their homework. But still, you might want to have a look. Some patients find it comforting to know what to expect, and what changes can occur."

"Maybe," she said noncommittally.

"Well, at any rate, I hope you remembered what I told you about eating small meals. They digest easily and much faster than large ones, which will be better for your system. Sometimes treatments have a severe effect on your appetite."

"You told me I'd start feeling sick," Adelina remembered. "Or not hungry."

"Yes. Which is why eating small foods, or at least, nibbling on healthy things during the day will do more to help you, nutrition-wise. Large meals can make you throw it right back up, but small meals might have a lesser effect."

Adelina nodded.

The doctor picked up a few more papers, and shuffled through them. "Aside from discussing possible side effects, Adelina, I also wanted to know if you'd contacted any of the support groups I mentioned last time?"

"Nah," she shrugged. "I don't feel that sick, and I've got my son helping me, so I'm not alone. Frankly, I'm not much for sitting around and whining about things I can't change, doc."

Doctor O'Brien frowned at her. "That is not what support groups are for. Adelina, your body is going through a series of debilitating changes that are only going to get worse. It can help to talk to people who have been through the same things."

"I'm not very good at sharing my problems."

"That's good for you, but what about your son?"

Adelina blinked at him. "Casey? What about my son? He's not sick."

"No, he's not. But he's going to be with you until the end, watching you get progressively weaker and weaker before his very eyes." Douglas O'Brien sighed and looked her straight in the eyes. "May I have your permission to speak bluntly?"

The dark-haired woman gave a rasping laugh. "Go ahead, Doc. 'Blunt' is the one language both the Esposito's and the Joneses speak fluently."

"Very well. You said your son is going to be with you, so you're not alone. Let me be very specific about that. Your son is going to be there when you throw up, or get dizzy. He's going to clean up after you, take care of you, and drive you to appointments when you are too sick to drive yourself. He is going to watch his strong and proud mother become too weak to even go to the bathroom by herself." O'Brien sighed, and linked his hands together. "You have a fatal disease, Adelina. With luck, hope and faith, our treatments will give you more time to spend with your son, but it can only give you so much. The odds are very much against you living out the year. There is always hope, but we also have to be realistic." He tapped his fingers against the folder Adeline knew held her records. "Your cancer has spread past both lungs and into your lymph nodes. There is very little we can do except try to halt further spread, but what you already have is enough." He leaned forward, his eyes deadly serious. "Your son is going to watch you die, slowly, bit by bit, and there is ultimately nothing we can do."

Adelina's hands squeezed tightly around the chair handles, her knuckles turning white.

"Eventually," the doctor continued. "Your fight will be over. But when you are gone, who is going to be there to help your son?"

Adelina swallowed painfully. "His girlfriend will be there for him," she said shakily. "He's talked about his other friends..."

"Why isn't she here now?" Douglas asked gently. "I think Casey is doing the same thing you're doing – trying to handle the weight of the world on his shoulders, and not letting anyone lift a finger to help. And even if he did, sometimes it's still better for him to meet other cancer patient friends and families. People who have gone through and are still going through everything he is now. Adelina, I can't make you accept support from strangers, no matter how much I think it will help you, but at least think about it. For your son's sake, if nothing else."

Adelina didn't say anything, but eventually she nodded, letting the doctor know she got the point.

"Okay." The doctor gently pushed one of the brochures to her. "If it makes a difference at all, I speak at this group once a month, to answer questions that friends and family members may have that they don't feel they have the right to ask the patient about. It's a friendly bunch, with people from all walks of life. I think you and Casey might benefit from an informal Q and A session to start, rather then some of the more intense, smaller group settings."

Adelina put the paper in her purse. "Maybe."

The doctor seemed to know when he was pushing the limit. "Do you have any questions for me right now?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Except, now I gotta go have that radiation therapy now, right?"

He nodded. "It's back the way you came, but you turn right, instead of left. I'll walk you down, if you like."

"I can find it," she said, waving off the offer. "But thanks anyway."

He smiled a bit sadly at her. "Always so strong, huh? Very well. I'll call down and let them know to expect you. We'll be watching you for about an hour or so, to make sure there are no immediate adverse conditions, and then your son can take you back home. But you need to be aware of yourself and how you feel. If at any time you feel like you can't breathe, or there are sharp pains or you being experiencing any other severe symptoms, I expect you to call immediately, either my office, or an ambulance. Is that clear?"

"I understand, doc. Can you do me a favor?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell my son I'll be done in about an hour or so?"

"Of course." He smiled. "I can always ask Bianca to do it. She seems to be somewhat...impressed, by your son."

Adelina chuckled. "My son always was popular with the girls growing up, especially after he started hitting the gym. Still," she added. "She should know my son is already involved with a lovely girl. And no matter what faults he may have, he's always been a very loyal person."

"I can see that," O'Brien smiled. "I can tell by his devotion to his mother."

Adelina gave a small smile at that.

"I'll make sure he knows," he repeated. "You'd better get going."

"Yeah. Thanks doc. I'll see ya later." And with that, she was out the door.

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Casey couldn't believe that he'd been sitting there in the waiting room for over an hour with his cousin, and neither of them were beaten to a pulp. He had fully expected to still harbor some resentment towards Sid, but the longer they sat there talking, the easier it became, and soon they were talking about the old days at the farm. Casey brought up the tractor incident again, and Sid groaned.

"One time. I crash the damn thing one time, and I never hear the end of it."

"Hey, I was an impressionable six-year-old," Casey said with a grin. "You made a heck of a, heh, _impact_ on me."

"I've gotten a lot better since then," Sid protested. "I became one hell of a wheelman-"

He stopped. Casey froze, and a silence settled over the waiting room. Casey sighed as he realized the pink elephant had just been pointed out. _We have to talk about it sometime_, he rationalized. _It might as well be now_.

"So, uh, that was what you did then, huh? Drove the get-away cars?" Despite his mental vow to keep it civil, he couldn't quite keep the coolness out of his tone.

Sid had a hard time meeting his gaze, and he shrugged. "In the beginning, yeah." He looked up. "Then I started doing mechanical work. Maintenance, ya know? The...the Dragons always had new cars comin' in, and my job was to check 'em out, make 'em road-worthy."

"Stripped 'em down, right?" Casey wondered how long he could keep his temper.

"Not really. They had other guys for that. We had some big rigs there owned by the head of the Dragons, specialty cars with designs I'd never seen before. I got to play under the hood and make sure everything purred like a basket full of kittens." Sid shrugged. "All I knew was the head guy was important, and we had to treat his cars like they was fine china. Some Asian dude, named after a Japanese beer. Saki, can ya believe it?"

"_Shredder_," Casey growled. "Oroku Saki." His fists clenched.

"That's him!" Sid looked at him questioningly. "Case, you know about the Shredder?"

Casey forced himself to take a deep breath. "You could say that," he managed to get out, without jumping up and slamming the other man against the wall. "How much did you know about him?"

"Not much man, I swear. The Dragon's that I ran with were more north of the city. We did our...work away from here. Some of the guys did drug-running, others ran gambling ops or..." he trailed off, and looked away. Casey glared at him.

"Protection rackets, right?" he spat out.

Sid shrugged, nodding. "Among other things. Like I said, I didn't really have much to do with that side of it. I did some driving in the beginning, but then they found out I knew my way around a toolbox, and well, they put me to work that way." He eyed his cousin warily. "Do I even wanna know how you know about the Shredder?"

"Depends. Your little Dragon buddies ever tell you what was goin' on with the Dragons in the city?"

"Like what?" Sid asked, sounding a bit confused.

"Like a bunch of ninjas running around in black pajamas and swords, buildings being destroyed, all that stuff?"

"Before or after those dinosaur guys showed up and tried to fly Manhattan up to the clouds?" Sid said wryly. "Yeah, for being a gang of thugs, there was actually good communications between factions. Lots of information was classified, but I know there was a rival group or something giving Shredder a hard time. Lots of fighting – the guy was always looking for new recruits to fight some enemy of his. And I saw the news reports – some guy got a shot of a space ship flying out of Saki's mansion." He shook his head. "Only in New York, you know?"

"Ever hear about someone called 'the vigilante'?"

Sid nodded. "Yeah, we heard about that. Some nut in a hockey mask beating the shit out of Dragons. Spuds wanted to bring the gang down to help out, but Sonny and Spike told him to back off. Different turfs and all that. Never did hear the end of the story though. I know at one point they had him – guess they probably took care of him. What about it?"

In answer, Casey leaned down and grabbed his bag. He unzipped it, reached in, pulled out a familiar object and dropped it on his cousin's lap.

Sid stared at the worn and scarred hockey mask glaring up at him. He looked at his cousin, back to the mask, and then back to Casey again. "No way!"

Casey snorted, and leaned back, folding his arms. "Yes way."

"You were the 'vigilante'? Holy christ, you had the Dragons _running_, man!" Sid gaped at his cousin. "How the hell did you get away from them? The big guy in New York, Hun – he did catch you, right?"

"Only for a couple of hours," Casey said with an injured tone. He tried not to preen under his cousin's compliments, but it was hard. "I had some friends who came and got me out." He smiled in remembrance. "And then it was payback time."

"You're braver than me, cuz," Sid murmured. There was a faint admiring edge to his voice. "You took on the Dragons and lived."

"I had to take them on," Casey said, his own voice hardening again. "You know damn well what they did to me and my family. What they did to my _dad_."

Sid looked away. Casey couldn't sit anymore and jumped out of his chair, beginning to pace up and down the hallway. Sid watched him silently.

Eventually, Casey came to a halt, pointing his finger at his cousin. "I wanna know why."

"Why?"

"Why you went with the Dragons. You _knew_ the Dragons burned down our store because Dad wouldn't pay into their protection racket. And a year later, after he stood up to them again, he was killed. Beaten to death in an alleyway. The police said it was probably a mugger, but dad still had his wallet. He was wearing his leather jacket. Muggers would have taken those." Casey swallowed hard, anger burning him up inside. "And my dad could've taken a mugger. Any time, any place. He'd been beaten to death, Sid. Killed by the Dragons 'cause he stood up for himself, for what was right." His eyes narrowed, drilling into his cousin. "And not a year after that, you went and _joined them_."

Sid raised his hands defensively. "No I didn't!"

"Don't _lie_!" Casey shouted. A nurse suddenly appeared at the end of the hallway, striding towards them, a cross look on her face.

"Sirs? Is there a problem here?"

Behind her, two male orderlies were following, watching, eyes suspicious. Casey had no doubt that one of them had a hand on a cell phone or something, ready to call for backup in case a fight broke out.

Sid stood up, setting Casey's mask down. He kept shooting Casey wary looks, but he took a step in the nurses direction, giving her a small smile. "I'm sorry miss. My cousin and I are...catching up, and we've got a lot of issues to resolve. We'll try to keep it down."

The nurse glared at him, looking him over, and then giving them a short nod. "Very well. But keep it down please. This _is_ a hospital you know, not a boxing arena. Next time, I will have security escort you out to resolve your issues elsewhere. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am," Casey said quietly. She left, and after a few seconds, the orderlies did too, though they didn't go far. Casey watched as one settled in near the end of the hall, a newspaper in hand. He couldn't help but feel a sense of amusement over the idea of he and his cousin requiring a babysitter.

Sid sat back down, still watching his cousin. Casey took another deep breath, released it, and then sat back down as well.

After another minute, Sid spoke up quietly. "I didn't lie."

Casey's jaw clenched. "So those weren't Purple Dragon members April and me had to toss out of the farmhouse then?"

"Casey, when I left home to join a gang, that's just what I did. I joined a gang. Not the Purple Dragons. At the time, the group of guys I hung with didn't have any ties to the Dragons." Sid spoke quietly, but quickly, as though he were afraid that Casey was going to interrupt him with a shout. Or worse. "They were mainly drug runners, black-market operators. I was the driver for a lot of deals that went down up north. I swear, we never did no protection rackets. I could never have done that, not after what happened to Uncle Dave."

Casey grunted, feeling a familiar pain in his chest at the mention of his father, but he motioned for his cousin to continue.

"The gang and I...we were together for a few years, real close ya know? I traded one family for another, kinda. Yeah, we broke the law, but it wasn't any hardcore stuff. The drugs was mainly marijuana – nothing harder than that." Sid frowned. "But then the leader of the group told us one day we were signing up with the Dragons, moving on to bigger and better things. More money, bigger territory – it was gonna be sweet." He looked down again. "I still had my buddies, and I tried to ignore that it was the Dragons – I just did my job and kept my head down. They found out I could fix engines and do detail work, and they made me do that instead of the other jobs the gang got assigned too."

"What happened?" Casey asked reluctantly, after Sid had paused for more than a minute.

Sid snorted. "I got greedy. When there was no official Dragon cars to work on, they made me do detailing. We actually did have a garage on the side. Charged a heck of a lot more, and you probably don't want to know how we retained our 'clients' but most of it was on the up and up. I did detailing work, charged a bit extra, and skimmed a bit off the top for myself." He rubbed his head. "I wound up with a good chunk'a stash too. But I spent it all, mainly booze, women--"

"Drugs?"

Sid shrugged. "Sometimes we needed a heavier rush then what we had in stock. I'd go..._shopping_. We'd party. I never said we was angels, Casey."

The ex-vigilante glared. "Go on."

"So anyway, eventually the Dragons caught on, and wanted their money back. My group scattered so they wouldn't get caught in the crossfire. I was given three days to pay it back or I'd be blown away. I was desperate Casey – I had no money, and I had to pay it back? With what?" Sid rubbed his hands together nervously. "That's when I thought of Grandpa Jake's old train stories." His eyes darted back up to Casey's steely gaze. "You know the rest."

Casey was silent for a while, letting Sid's story sink in. Part of him still wanted to grab Sid by the throat and squeeze the life out of him. The other part of him was insisting that everyone – minus a choice few – deserved a second chance. The fact that Sid was even there, was proof that at least his cousin was trying. Trying to keep his temper under control, he picked up the mask from the chair and looked at it for a minute, before shoving it back in his bag.

He knew firsthand what letting his anger fester could do. It was what had gotten him into trouble, the first time Raphael and his brothers had to bail him out 'cause he'd gotten in over his head. Master Splinter was always preaching about not letting anger cloud the mind, but whenever he thought about his father and the Dragons, the anger welled up so quickly inside him he thought he'd choke on it.

Could he turn that rage on family? Even family like Sid? He as pretty sure the answer was a 'no', and he knew that he never wanted to find out if it were possible. He glanced at Sid, and then at the floor, rubbing his hands over his face, trying to work his feelings out without his fists for a change. A snicker threatened to escape at the idea, but he held it back.

He looked back at his cousin, who was slouching into the hard-backed seat, hands tucked into the long, dirty jacket wrapped around him, a look of misery on his face. All those years Sid had been missing, Casey had painted him up in his mind as some big and nasty villain, a head Dragon rep. What was sitting in the hospital chair was so far from his imagination, he couldn't even begin to equate Sid with it. A big, bad Dragon member wouldn't have called his mother to find out his parents contact info. A villain wouldn't have come to the hospital to see if his aunt and cousin were okay.

As he looked at the hunched form of Sid, sitting there as though awaiting some sort of punishment, he felt something inside him wither away, dissolving into nothingness. Try as he might, he couldn't hold onto all of the anger he'd had for the man. Some yes, but not all. He just looked too...pathetic. A very small smile graced his face, and he leaned over and punched Sid in the arm. Hard.

Sid jolted up, rubbing his arm and glowering at him. "What the fuck was that for?" he snarled. "That hurt!"

"Don't be a pansy," Casey said gruffly. "Look, I already told ya, you got a lot of apologies to make. I ain't gonna lie to you – I'm still pissed off at you. I also missed you, you crazy, frigged-up, whackjob, and if you ever, _ever_ run out on the family again, I'm gonna beat you black and blue with my baseball bat. You got me?"

Sid stared at him blankly. "You mean it?"

"That I'll hurt you? Buddy-boy, you'd better ask your ex-pals about whether or not I'm good at handing out pain-"

"No, you idiot." Sid cut him off. "About missing me. Did you mean that?"

Casey gazed at him, and suddenly felt like he was eight years old again, his cousin at his side, the terrible twosome together again, and swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I really did."

Sid smiled weakly at him. "I missed you too, Case-man. Real and true, I did."

"It's about time you came to your senses," said a third voice, much louder then the low tones they'd finished off with. Casey and Sid both whipped their heads around, to see Adelina standing in the hallway, arms folded, a look of affectionate amusement on her face.

Casey jumped to his feet. "Ma, you okay? How are ya feelin'?"

Adelina shrugged. "I was injected with radioactive slime, how do you think I feel?" But she grinned at them, and moved forward. "I feel okay, just tired." She looked at Sid. "It's nice to see you again, Sidney Aluicious Jones."

Sid flushed, and groaned. "Auntie Adie!"

She smirked at him, and then without warning, she delivered a sharp smack to the back of his head. He shouted in surprise, one hand flying to his head to rub away the sting. His eyes were wide with surprise.

"What was that for?"

"For being gone so long," she said sternly. "Now come here."

Still wary, he did as he was told, and she opened her arms. A smile spread across his face, and he launched himself at her, hugging her tightly. Casey watched, amused.

After a minute, Sid pulled back, and looked at her and Casey both. "Thanks," he said solemnly. Casey nodded, and Adelina shrugged.

"You're family kiddo. You may be an ass, but you're the family's ass."

Sid made a face. "Here's hoping that I'll earn a newer, better nickname than that."

"Oh, I dunno," Casey mused. "It has that ring of honesty to it..."

Sid growled and reached out with a swipe of his own. Casey dodged it, and yanked on the hood of Sid's trench coat, pulling him off balance. Sid yelped, and then the chase was on, the two of them wheeling around and racing for the stairs, Casey keeping his lead by virtue of his slightly longer legs, and a year's worth of avoiding April's smacks. They disappeared into the stairwell, their boots smacking against the concrete stairs.

Casey knew his mother would meet him by the car and would probably deliver a few more swats of her own, but the pressure inside him was easing further and further away, and he didn't want to let it go just yet. Maybe he was acting like a big kid, but he couldn't help wanting to. Somewhere inside him, the voice was shouting something about brochures and fantasy's and wishful thinking. He tuned it out.

Sid chasing him reminded him of better, happier times, and he wanted to hold on to that feeling as long as he could. He had a feeling it wouldn't last much longer.

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**End Chapter 3**

...

**Notes: **A special thank you to everyone who has reviewed thus far! Your comments are always welcomed and appreciated. Just so you know, the only facts that are apparently canon, are the ones involving Casey's grandfather as a train robber, and Casey having a cousin named Sid who was in a gang. Everything else in the time line I've set up here is the product of my own imagination.

Chapter 4 is off to be beta'd. Chapter 5 is 95 complete, and chapter 6 is plotted out. I am ahead of schedule.

If you feel moved in any way, or even if you think I've destroyed the characters you know, well, you know where the review button is.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** One Hand Clapping

**Author:** Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)

**Words (fic portion) for chapter 4**: 5551 (approx 12 OpenOffice pages)

**Rating: **PG13 for language

**Pairing: **Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad

**Summary:** **_Book 1_**. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed.

**Notes: **Beta-read by the wonderful **Red Rebel**, who is a great source of encouragement. More back story here on the Espositos, but yes, the guys make an appearance.

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Adelina had always been a very strong woman. As a child, she'd been a rough and rowdy tomboy, and completely unapologetic about it. Instead of Barbie dolls and ballet lessons, she asked for Batman comics and a baseball glove to play pickle with her dad. As a teenager, the other girls in the neighbourhood liked to wear frilly sun-dresses, or pastel shirts and fancy bell-bottom jeans with flowers and rainbows, while she ran around in torn off shorts and old t-shirts that let her work out more freely. She had never been considered delicate.

Now her sister, _she_ had been delicate. Caterina Esposito had been born prematurely in the mid-sixties, and was a sickly, though happy, baby. Always referred to as fragile, weak, and frail, it came as no real surprise when she passed away at the tender age of three. Adelina had been eight years old at the time.

If she thought about it, Adelina could probably attribute her dedication to being strong to her sister's death – could probably pinpoint it to the very first time after the funeral when someone had callously remarked that the baby had been too weak to live for very long. That had struck a chord with her. Adelina had always been a fan of sports, and when she turned fourteen and discovered the weight room at her high school, she made the decision to be as strong as she could possibly be. No one would ever call her weak.

She had pushed herself to her limits, building her physique beyond what was considered by social norms to be acceptable. Guys at school had teased her about being 'one of them' until they learned she had a nasty right hook that accompanied her new muscles. Girls shied away from her, both intimidated by her new-found power, and amused at what she had done to herself. Adelina had never cared about people's opinions of her, and her parents had always been supportive of everything she'd ever done, so it made no difference to her how she was perceived by the general public.

Then she had met David Jones at a competition for female bodybuilders in 1980. The sport back then for women was still in its infancy, but was gaining ground thanks to the popularity of women like Rachel McLish, a personal hero of Adelina's. An eighteen-year-old Adelina had gone, not to compete, but to see how she measured up size-wise, and to see what a competition was really like. She had seen a handsome young man avidly applauding one of the competitors, and she had spontaneously asked what he thought of the women on the stage.

Ex-hockey player David Jones was a fan of all competitions, and a big supporter of women in sports, saying they were just as tough and capable as males. He claimed his view was a direct result of being raised by a woman who could take on any male and win, without lifting a finger or raising her voice. '_Now that's power!_' His mother had commanded respect, and had trained that into her son as best she could. David was impressed by the women competing, especially since they faced great opposition from a large sect of society that seemed to want them back in the kitchen, slender, gentle, barefoot and pregnant.

Adelina found herself quickly falling for the young man, and within six months, they had been married. Casey had been born less then two years later.

Despite getting married and having a child, Adelina was still out to prove herself to everyone that she was still strong, and she got herself back into shape quickly. With her husband's complete support behind her, she entered, competed in, and won the National Physique Committee championship, giving her the right to compete in the Miss Olympia's in 1985. She didn't make it past the first round, losing to competitors like Cory Everson and her hero McLish, but by that time, the part of her that had pushed her on had finally been appeased. She had made it to a level that she was happy with. She knew she was strong. She could retire with no regrets, and focus on raising her son.

After her husband died, Adelina had found herself flagging. She had lost her husband, lover, and best friend in one blow to gang violence, and her father died in a car crash not a year later. Had it not been for her son, she might have given up.

Then the part of her that had declared she would show her strength to the world, lifted up its voice inside of her, and she'd clawed her way out of the pit of self-despair she'd found herself in. She had to be strong for her son, for her mother who was also suffering, and for the good of the family business. She'd had her moment of pity. Enough was enough.

She went on and raised a strong son who respected women and protected innocent people, like his friend Steve, who all but had 'victim' written across his forehead. She had run Esposito Communications for almost two years, helping it stabilize, before finding the best possible candidate to take it over. She took care of her mother, and checked in on her mother and father-in law, making sure they were okay and coping after the death of their youngest son. She toughed it out, and was the rock of the family.

She had devoted her entire life to making herself a survivor. She was strong. She always had been. She had always believed she would be.

The disease now taking up residence in her body said otherwise.

Returning from the city late afternoon, Adelina had made it to almost midnight before the nausea completely overwhelmed her self-restraint, and had barely made it to the bathroom before emptying her stomach into the toilet. Coughing and heaving, she retched and retched and tried in vain to stop. Her stomach rolled and churned, her muscles aching as they flexed and heaved, bile splattering in and around the bowl, flecks getting in her hair that hung in clumps around her face.

Finally the assault on her system slowed, and finally stopped, and she sat on the floor, panting, tears of pain and exhaustion welling up at the corners of her eyes. She had an arm wrapped around her stomach protectively, as though the action would hold another incident at bay. Her head ached, spots were dancing in front of her eyes, and if the uneasiness in her gut didn't make her hurl again, the blurred vision would. She closed her eyes to block the blurry, shifting world, and rested her forehead against the toilet seat edge, not caring that her hair was probably dangling into the resultant mess. Weak. She felt weak, for the first time that she could remember since that dark time when her husband died. All of her vaunted strength was gone.

Footsteps resounded on the floorboards in the hallway, heading towards the bathroom. A concerned voice called out, "Ma?"

Maybe her strength wasn't completely gone. Somehow, Adelina found it within herself to stretch out with one foot, kicking at the door feebly, until it swung shut. Two seconds later, there was a heavy rap on the wooden paneling.

"Ma?"

"Give me a second," she croaked out, trusting that her son wouldn't invade her privacy until she gave him permission. He knew better. Silence reigned for a few seconds and then Casey sighed.

"One minute ma, then I'm coming in whether you like it or not."

Adelina stifled a groan, and slowly pushed her self up, using the toilet as a handhold. Her leg muscles had the consistency of over cooked spaghetti, and as she stood, wobbling slightly, she transferred her grip to the counter. She turned the cold water on in the sink, throwing a small hand towel under the spray until it soaked through, and then wrung it out a bit, scrubbing it over her face, and then wiping away the worst of the mess in her hair. She'd still need a shower, but aside from the white skin and the dark smudges under her eyes, she decided she could almost pass for normal.

Taking the towel, she gave a quick swipe around the toilet seat and then dropped it to the floor. She pushed it around the tiles with her foot, cleaning the worst of the spill, before grabbing and tossing it in the small hamper in the corner. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands again.

Finally, she opened the bathroom door, a second before Casey could grab the handle himself. Her son stood there, eyes wide with concern and worry, body stiff with tension. She looked at him, mustered up all her remaining strength, and said, "What, you've never seen a woman puke before?" She jabbed him in the chest. "If you and April plan on giving me grandkids someday, you'd better prepare yourself for at least six months of this."

Adelina ignored the obvious lie of her statement. Even if Casey and April were so inclined, she was most likely never going to see any offspring they could produce. But despite the depressing undertone to her words, they still had the result she'd been counting on. Casey's face blushed bright red and he started sputtering. A faint smirk replaced the matter-of-fact one she'd been wearing. She knew how to play her son _so_ well.

But Casey surprised her. He stopped garbling about April and kids and 'not yet, not YET' and focused back on her, his eyes narrowed in realization.

"You're trying to distract me," he accused.

Adelina nodded. "Is it working?"

"No!"

"Well, it was worth a try," she shrugged. "Be a dear and go get my robe from my bedroom, will you? I'm going to have a shower and clean up a bit before I go back to bed. You should go back to bed too."

"Don't change the subject," Casey growled. "The doc said you'd feel sick but you sounded like you was dyin' or something. Did you throw up blood or anything?"

"If I'd known you wanted a sample, dear, I wouldn't have flushed the toilet," Adelina said, glaring at him. "I know what to look for, Arnold Casey Jones. I read the same damn papers you did, and I was there when the doc told me about side-effects. I'm the one whose sick, dammit! Let me handle it!"

She stopped suddenly, her fingers gripping the door tightly, eyes squeezed shut. Casey didn't deserve to be yelled at, not like this. He was worried about her, and this was probably the first time he'd ever seen her sick. She'd always hidden her illnesses from him when he was younger. She was the parent, not him. She took a deep breath, and looked up to meet his worried blue eyes. _The same shade of blue as his father_, she mused thoughtfully. _And David would be doing the same thing Casey is, if he were here_.

"Let's try this again," she suggested carefully. "I feel much better now. I was sick, but I didn't throw up any blood or internal organs, even though it sure felt like I did. Now I feel disgusting because I wasn't as careful as I should have been while throwing up, and all I want to do is take a nice, hot shower before going back to bed."

Casey watched her, as though trying to figure out if she was lying to him, before nodding his head curtly, dropping his gaze. "Okay ma," he said quietly. "I'll get your bathrobe." He turned quickly, and moved off down the hall.

_Crap. _

When he came back, he placed the folded robe on the counter, but before he could make another quick exit, Adelina laid her hand on his arm, stopping him instantly. She wouldn't be able to sleep unless she addressed this first. She cleared her throat, coughing twice before making an attempt to clear the air.

"I scared you," she said roughly, having a hard time meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry. I was upset, and I'm sorry that I took it out on you. I..." she swallowed hard, which tasted exceptionally foul with the bile still sticking to the back of her throat. "..I think I scared myself."

She watched as Casey's eyes widened in shock at his mother's admission. _And why shouldn't he be shocked? When's the last time I ever admitted I was scared of something?_

"You haven't said you were scared since the night before dad died, when you didn't want him going out," he breathed.

Adelina's heart clenched. _Oh yeah. That would be the time_. "Yeah, well, second time for everything," she muttered. Her blood was rushing through her head, thudding in time with her heart. She brought a hand up to rub wearily at her temples. This was not helping her headache in the slightest.

Apparently the move made Casey snap back into himself, letting her off the hook for her revealing words, and she gave a silent sigh of relief. "Ma, go have your shower, and then go to bed," he ordered gruffly.

Adelina gave him a dry look. "What a good idea," she said wryly. "I never would have thought of it myself."

Casey had the decency to look somewhat abashed for keeping his mother from getting to bed sooner, and he closed the door gently. With a sigh, Adelina started the shower and took off her soiled pajamas. The faster she did this, the faster she could go to sleep and try to forget the night's unpleasantness. And since she'd cleaned the wost of it, Casey could finish off the bathroom more thoroughly in the morning. The thought of her son actually cleaning something for a change cheered her, giving her a bit of energy, and she wound up taking a little longer in the shower then she'd planned, enjoying the pulsing hot water for as long as she could.

It was amazing what pleasure you could take in the smallest actions, once you knew there were so many worse things in life.

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The next day found Casey out in the barn, playing with the old tractor he and Sid had been joking about just the day before. It was rusted through in some spots, and the leathery seat had been eaten away by the efforts of both time and the local field mice, but the engine itself wasn't in such bad shape. Casey had found the keys still hanging in the small box on the barn wall, and although it chugged, sputtered and conked out, those very signs proved to Casey there was still life in the old girl. _At last,_ he thought, grinning to himself. _A worthy challenge_.

At least it gave him something to do. And it got him out of the house. He had his cell phone on him, and his mother knew to call for him if she needed his help with anything, but the events of the previous night had left him a bit unsettled.

He knew this was long overdue in coming. His mother had been dealt the kind of blow everybody hoped they'd never get, and she'd been walking around all week like it wasn't her life hanging in the balance or something. Casey had wanted her to rant or vent or do _something_ that proved she wasn't trying to sweep the problems under the carpet, and last night, she had. She'd told him she was scared.

If his mother was scared, then Casey was downright terrified. His mother was the stuff of legends, built up in his mind as solidly as the Rock of Gibraltar, and to hear her finally admit that she was afraid...well, Casey found himself wishing he'd never even thought about wanting her to face reality.

_Be careful what you wish for,_ he mused darkly. He'd wanted his mother to start acknowledging her illness. She had. Now he didn't want to hear about it anymore.

He turned his attention back to the engine in front of him. His toolbox was open on the ground beside him, and he traded one tool for another, plunging his hands back into the guts of the machine. Mainly it just required cleaning, some tightening here and there. Two spark plugs needed replacing – he knew there were extra parts somewhere in the barn. It would never be as 'good as new' – his grandfather had bought it used, and it was older then Casey was – but it would run.

_Couple'a days and I'll have it working as good as it did before it ever hit the barn wall_. His eyes flickered over to the very wall he'd been thinking of, seeing the warped indentations in the sturdy wood from the incident almost eighteen years ago. Sid had screamed in terror when the front of the tractor hit the barn wall, not realizing one needed to go a little faster then five miles an hour to break through.

Sid. Now _there_ was a surprise. He'd never in a million years thought he'd meet up with his cousin again, not after their last encounter, and certainly not in a hospital waiting room. Not to mention settling their past, coming to accept each other as cousins – as _family_ – again. Casey wasn't one hundred percent sure he trusted his cousin – he doubted he ever fully would – but that seemed to mean less to him then the fact that he was back in Casey's life in general. Whether that stayed a positive thing, well, only time would tell for sure.

Speaking of Sid, he had promised to come up to the farmhouse in...Casey thought about it. _Three days?_ It was Tuesday, his mother had her next appointment..._Friday. Yeah, three days_. Sid was going to meet them at the hospital and come up for the weekend. Spend some time bonding or something, rebuilding family ties. Basically, learn about each other all over again. It was a little nerve-wracking, but at the same time, Casey felt a surge of anticipation at having the Sid he remembered at the farmhouse once again.

Casey traded his tools for the cloth dangling from his waistband, and began to wipe his hands off. If he didn't get the worst off before entering the house, his mother would make him clean the bathroom again. Casey shuddered. Once was more than enough.

There was the sound of footsteps crunching in the leaves that were beginning to fall off the trees. Casey turned around, and his eyes went wide in surprise and shock.

"YOU!"

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Adelina glared at the plate of apple slices she'd cut up. She had been feeling a bit hungry, but by the time she'd finished preparing her snack, her appetite was gone, and instead of salivating, the tasty, tangy smell of the fruit was now making her sick.

_This is not fair._

Pushing the plate aside, she sighed and got up for the saran wrap. Maybe she'd be hungry later, and the apples would keep for a bit. Sprinkling a bit of salt on them to keep them from browning, she wrapped the plate tight and stuck it in the fridge.

The doctor had given her drugs to help counteract her symptoms, but she absolutely hated the idea of putting anything else in her body. With the exception of the night before, she hadn't reacted bad enough to the chemo treatments to warrant intervention via drugs. At least not in her mind.

She should find something to do. She was probably feeling bad because she was bored, and had far too much time to dwell on negative thoughts. That was probably why she'd been snarking at her son all morning, until he'd finally been driven outside. She didn't handle pressure well.

Maybe there was something on TV. They had reception on the TV now, wonder of wonders – sometime back, Casey had a satellite dish installed on the property. She had wondered why he'd put forth the expense since he wasn't there that often, but he'd muttered something about never dealing with '_him_' on a long-term basis without cable access or a sedative ever again, and had begged her to drop the subject. Adelina shrugged. It wasn't her business. The farmhouse belonged to Casey, no matter that he kept calling it 'grandma's place', and he could do whatever he wanted with it.

She filled a glass with water from the fridge and then wandered back out into the main room, dropping onto the sofa with a sigh. Her energy levels were lower then they usually were, but she was determined not to take a nap. Naps were for children, and she was no child. Grabbing the remote, Adelina turned the TV on, propping her feet up on the footstool she'd brought over from the side wall.

Nothing. Three hundred blasted channels and absolutely nothing was on. She contemplated watching Doctor Phil, but decided that the new TV Casey'd had put in (sometime around the Great Satellite Installation, she figured) was too nice to break via remote through the glass the first time that patronizing drawl got on her last nerve.

_Maybe a movie? _

About to get up and investigate the DVD offerings on the shelf next to the TV, Adelina was stopped by a strange sound. Casting her gaze around the room, her eyes settled on Casey's duffel bag by the door. It was beeping insistently at her.

_I thought Casey had his cell phone with him_, she thought, reaching down and picking the bag up. She sat back down on the sofa and unzipped it, following the beeping sound until her questing fingers grasped a circular object and pulled it out.

_A turtle shell?_

"This is not my son's cell phone," she murmured, turning it over in her hands. Seeing the little latch on the side, she thumbed it, and watched as the shell sprung open. A small view screen went fuzzy for a second, and then cleared.

Adelina stared blankly at the shocked look on the small green face for a second before a muffled curse escaped the other...person?...and the screen abruptly went dark. Adelina waited another few seconds, but when the green person didn't come back, she gently closed the lid and set it back down on top of Casey's duffel bag.

A tiny grin stole across her face. _Well_, she thought, a bit dazedly. _I did tell Casey he'd have to tell me about the giant turtle and the big rat someday._

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Casey backed away slowly, eyes held up defensively. "Easy there, you know me, right? I didn't do nuthin' to ya." He aimed his finger at the one advancing towards him. "I helped save your life!" His back struck a tree, and kept him from retreating any further.

The Green Man – or Woman, rather, gave a small questioning growl, and leaned forward, bumping her massive head against Casey's chest. She snuffled around him, sniffing and licking her chops, looking for something. Casey relaxed a fraction, bringing one hand up to lightly pat her on the head.

"I ain't got no pistachios, girl – it was a buddy of mine who had them," he grinned. "He ain't here, ipso functo, there aren't any."

The Green Woman seemed to pout at him, and she turned her head to the side, letting out a soft 'whuff'. Two answering sounds rang out, and her cubs suddenly tumbled into the small clearing, gallumphing over and pushing up against Casey. The Green Woman backed away, content to let her children do her dirty work. Casey snickered as two cold wet noses poked him on the arms and snuffled all over his t-shirt. One of the cubs stood up on its hind legs, looking Casey in the eye before licking him on the cheek and sniffing his neck, letting out a sneeze.

"Okay, that was gross," Casey groaned. "Down, fella. Down!"

Surprisingly, the two cubs listened to him, the smaller of the two backing away slightly, the bigger one dropping back to all fours, tilting its head quizzically. Casey smiled and crouched down, holding his hand out. He laughed outright as they pushed against it, fighting each other to have his hand on their head, and he obligingly put both hands to work, scratching each one gently.

"I guess you do remember us. Well, at least your mother does." Casey looked over and saw the Green Woman watching him placidly, a branch full of leaves in her mouth. "Well, it's nice to know you trust me."

She snorted at him and began rooting through the bushes for more choice leaves. Casey chuckled, and let the cubs tackle him, rolling with them on the ground. He was surprised that they were very careful with their claws, though they weren't so careful with their strength. Casey had the breath blown out of him in a rush as two heavy paws landed square in the middle of his stomach.

Suddenly a growl came from the Green Woman, and Casey watched as the offending cub raised his paws quickly, putting them back on the ground, before leaning over to sniff Casey's stomach, and offer a tentative lick to his t-shirt. Casey rubbed its head.

"I'm okay, ya little goob. Just be careful – you're stronger then I am!"

Casey had heard all about the origin of the Green Man from Donatello, soon after the turtles had come back from yet another trip to the Underground City. A place he'd heard a lot about, but had never seen personally. It was hard to believe that this creature was a descendant of the human race – had once _been_ a human, before the E'lyntians had gotten their crystals on it. He supposed it accounted for the Green Woman's intelligence. Something she'd obviously passed down to her cubs.

The Green Woman raised her head and scented the air, nostrils quivering. Then she ambled over, giving a low cough. The two cubs returned to her side, and they melted back into the underbrush. Casey watched them leave.

"Guess playtime's over," he muttered. He hadn't been expecting _that _when he'd come outside. Standing up, be brushed off the twigs, dead leaves and bits of the forest carpet from his pants. He gave a few futile swipes at the back of his shirt and then decided to ignore it. It was getting on in the afternoon – almost dinner time. Time for him to head back too.

He kicked his boots against the stairs as he went up them, trying to knock off the worst of the mud and dirt, before opening the door. His mother was sitting on the sofa, and she looked up as Casey came into the room.

"Hey ma," he said cautiously. The tension he'd just gotten rid of during his impromptu wrestling match suddenly rocketed back. He wasn't sure what kind of mood she'd be in, especially after last night, and the way he'd escaped that morning.

She smiled at him, and he relaxed a bit. Then he saw his Shell Cell sitting on his bag in front of her. His hand automatically went to his pants pocket – only his cell phone was there. He could have _sworn_ he'd brought the Shell Cell. Except he obviously hadn't. He swallowed, tension back and ratcheting up to twenty-two on a scale meant for ten.

"Uh..." He blinked as she reached down and picked up the turtle shell, before tossing it at him. He fumbled it for a second, and then gripped it tightly. "Ma?"

She winked at him, and reached for her water. "You got a call."

Casey looked from her, to the Shell Cell, and back to her again. "I, uh, did?"

"Mm-hmm." She sipped her drink slowly and Casey fumed internally for a second, knowing she was enjoying his torment. Finally, she set the glass down and leaned back against the sofa. "Remember I told you one day you had to tell me about the turtle and rat I saw in the barn last year?"

Casey sighed, seeing what was coming.

She smirked and folded her arms. "I think it's story time."

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_Damn, damn, double damn, goddam SHIT!_ Raphael sat straddled across his bike in the empty warehouse that served as a garage for the Battle Shell. He glared at the Shell Cell in his hand, hoping and praying that he'd been too fast at turning it off for Casey's mother to get more then a confused blur, but the sinking feeling in his gut was not very reassuring.

Across the room, Donatello lifted his head. "Raph?"

"Damn, damn, DAMN," Raphael repeated, squeezing the communicator until the edges started biting into his hand.

Donatello glared, giving a pointed look to the nearly compressed Shell Cell. "If you break it again, I am NOT fixing it tonight."

Raphael looked at him, ignoring the comment. "I think Casey's mother saw me."

"What?"

Behind them, the elevator had risen again, and Leonardo's form filled the doorway. He stood there, glaring at Raphael, who valiantly resisted the urge to give his brother a one-finger salute. Instead, he gestured to the Shell Cell.

"I was trying to reach Casey," he growled. "How was I supposed to know he'd leave the Shell Cell lying around for his mom to find?"

"This is just perfect," Leo groaned. "Like she wasn't suspicious enough before."

"Whaddaya talkin' about?" Raph asked, confused. He waved the communicator at his brother. "This is the first time she ever saw me!"

"That's not what I'm referring to," his brother said with a sigh. "Remember back at the farmhouse last year? When April first met Casey's mother?"

Donatello joined them, wiping his hands off. "April said you and Master Splinter helped her pass all of his mother's 'tests'."

"Yes. What we didn't mention was that somehow, she noticed what we were doing. She didn't force anything out of Casey, but she did say that one day, she wanted to know the full story behind the 'big rat' and the 'giant turtle'." Leo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "She's a remarkably perceptive woman."

"She must be if she even noticed Master Splinter," Raphael said, highly amused. "Guess you're not so perfect after all, eh Fearless?"

Leonardo glared at him. Donatello held his hands up, as though trying to keep the peace, and Raphael reluctantly backed off. The purple-banded turtle waited a seconds, as though to confirm that they weren't about to break out in battle, and then began chewing over the information he'd absorbed.

"So this woman knows about Leonardo and Master Splinter, and now she knows about Raphael," he said thoughtfully, musing out loud. "Of course, she may not know that you two are different people – she might just assume Raphael is the same one she saw at the farmhouse."

"What are the odds of her dropping this, do you think?" Leonardo asked, somewhat hopefully.

Donatello shrugged. "No clue. Though, if she had Casey's Shell Cell, either she already knows about us, or she's about to. I theorize that she found Casey's communicator and answered it when Raph called, which means either Casey wasn't there, or he forgot to make sure he had it on him when he left. Which means she has to return it to him, and she'll probably mention the little green man on the screen --" Donatello shot a look at Raphael. "--and she's probably smart enough to tie it in with seeing Leo last year. Of course, this leads to Casey automatically trying to deny our existence--"

"--in which case, we're screwed," Raphael finished. "Casey can't lie for shit, and mother's are supposed to be professionals at catching their kids in a lie."

"That's an awfully huge leap to make, Don," Leo said doubtfully. "Raph, you shut it off the instant you saw it wasn't Casey – maybe she'll just think she was seeing things?"

"You said so yourself she's a highly perceptive woman," Donatello pointed out. "And we can hope for the best in this case – that being that she dismisses Raph's gaffe from her mind – or we can prepare for the worst – that she does tie everything together." He gave his leader a very pointed stare. "Might I remind you, that our secrecy would then rely on Casey's ability to lie convincingly to his mother?"

Leo thought about that for a second. Then he dropped his head, sighing. "Well, what's one more human knowing about us?" he muttered sarcastically. "Next to Karai, Hun, Baxter Stockman, the Foot, Casey, April, the Silver Sentry, Leatherhead, Angel, and all our homeless friends, I'm starting to wonder if there's anyone who _doesn't_ know about us. Maybe we should do what Mikey's been suggesting, and start offering guided tours through the lair."

Raphael snickered. "'Snark' doesn't really suit you, Leo."

A faint grin appeared on his brother's face, despite his apparent reluctance to let it. "Stifle it Raph." Another sigh escaped him, and he turned back to the elevator. "Come on. We'd better let Master Splinter know about this. If there's a chance Casey's going to tell his mother about us, we'd better make sure everyone is prepared."

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**End Chapter 4**

**End Notes:** See? The guys made an appearance! And you'll be seeing more of them in chapters to come.

This is the shortest chapter of them all, and the next one will be about the same, so please bear with me. :) I don't think this was the best one I've ever done – I've read it over and over again and it still sounds...choppy, or something, but I've done the best I can with it. I hope you enjoy it, and let me know your thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** One Hand Clapping

**Author:** Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)

**Words (fic portion) for chapter 5**: 4731 (approx 12 OpenOffice pages) --okay, I thought it would be longer, but it was at the perfect cut-off point.

**Rating: **PG13 for language

**Pairing: **Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad

**Summary:** **_Book 1_**. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed.

**Notes: **Once again beta'd by **Red Rebel** to whom I owe a million thank you's. The guys do appear in the final third of the fic. :)

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Casy sat down hard on the sofa, still staring at the Shell Cell out in the open. Ever since the day his mother had told him she'd seen Leo and Splinter in the barn, he'd known this day would eventually come. He just wasn't planning on that time being now.

_Like I don't have enough stress in my life as it is,_ he thought a tad bitterly. It seemed like things wanted to start snowballing on him, piling up, one on top of the other until he couldn't see. _Which is when I'll trip and fall flat on my ass._

It seemed taboo to even consider mentioning the guys. He'd been lectured and admonished about secrecy and stealth and fading into the bloody shadows without a trace so many times he could probably deliver Splinter's favorite speech verbatim. And did he even have the right to tell his mother anything? It wasn't his story- well, except the bits that starred him personally, but then, telling those wouldn't make much sense if she didn't have the back story that went with it.

He wondered if telling the story in place of Master Splinter made him a usurper. The elderly rat did not want his sons actively advertising their existence, but when up-worlders did learn of them, he had always been the one to speak of their origin- such as they themselves knew it. Casey blew out a breath. There had been a lot of revelations- a lot of _changes_ to the turtles origin story since Casey had first heard the abridged version nearly two years ago. Half of the changes he himself only heard about in stories himself- the guys had a habit of falling into adventures too quick to even fire off a call for additional backup.

He was drifting off into his mind again. He wasn't sure how that was possible with the guarded entry standing watch. His mother was still sitting there, waiting for him to start rattling off everything he knew, as he always had as a kid. There was absolutely no defense for one of his mother's patented tell-me-_now_ looks. Even at that very moment, her blue eyes were like twin lasers, pinning him in place and refusing to let him escape. He glanced at her quickly, wondering if she was seriously going to force him to metaphorically spill his guts right then and there. Adelina's chin lifted at his gaze, and the light from the table lamp glinted off the metal fames of her glasses, giving her a particularly foreboding look.

"Arnold?"

Oh yes. She was definitely serious. Casey sighed again, rolling his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tenseness from his muscles. _It's not fair,_ he pouted to himself. _The guys discovered _me _and _I'm _the one in the hotseat!_

"It's..kinda a long story ma," he muttered. Still stiff, he brought one hand up in an attempt to massage out the clumps of granite masquerading as muscles in his neck. It was like trying to mold solid steel. "Honest, I ain't exactly sure where to start."

"Try the beginning, dear," she advised dryly. "I find it tends to help keep things in order."

Casey gave her a mild glare which didn't phase her in the slightest, and then returned his eyes to the floor, still mulling over how- and precisely _what_- to tell her. "Ease off a bit ma- it's not an easy story to tell!" _Maybe I can buy some time..._Stalling was an art form he used to have mastered as a child. She might cut him some slack.

Adelina shrugged, and tilted her head to the side. "Then I'll help start you off. I did see a large turtle and a giant rat in the barn last year?"

_Then again, maybe not. _Obviously there would be no coddling of the Case-man that eveningCasey nodded hesitantly. "Leonardo and Master Splinter."

"Huh?"

"Their names," Casey clarified, raising his voice. "The turtle wearing the blue bandanna was Leo, and the rat was his master, Splinter."

His mother arched an eyebrow. "Master?"

"Ninja Master. Leo's his star student. And his son," Casey thought to add on.

"...I assume you mean his adopted son, yes?" Adelina asked, a tad faintly. Casey nodded. "I see. But the...turtle, I saw on your--" she stopped, and waved at the communicator sitting on Casey's bag.

"Shell Cell."

"--Shell Cell. Okay. The turtle I saw on the screen had a red bandanna."

It was just like her to be so observant.

"That's my pal, Raphael. He's Leo's brother- the two of them don't get on so good sometimes, but they come through in a pinch." Casey was breathing very slowly and evenly. A quiet kind of calm had settled over the living room, covering the two of them, and Casey was waiting for the bomb to drop. His mother continued to sit there, staring at him. Her glasses were still reflecting part of the light, which made it very hard for Casey to see her eyes.

"Brothers?"

"Yeah. There's actually four of them." Casey waited another minute, and then gave up. The only option left would be to lie, and his mother would see through him faster then Mikey could scarf down a deluxe pizza combo. "Leo's the leader, Raph's kinda like the second-in-command. Well, he would be if he controlled his temper more- heh, look at me," Casey chuckled. He certainly was one to talk about tempers. "Anyway, they got two other brothers. Donatello's the smart guy- you should see the stuff this guy whips up! He's got the purple bandanna. Mikey's the one in orange. I think they're all around the same age but Raph keeps telling me Mikey's the baby of the group. He's a real goof, but in a cute, little kid kinda way, ya know?" Casey couldn't stop a smile from playing over his face as he spoke of the four warriors he was proud to call brothers, as they did him. "They used to be regular little pet-store turtles until they fell down the sewers. Some green ooze got all over them and they mutated. Made 'em bigger, smarter, stronger."

"And the rat?" Adelina's voice was still calm, even.

"Splinter, he was a pet of this ninja master and learned how to to fight. His master was killed, and Splinter wound up in the sewers. He found the turtles, got slime on himself and then mutated too. He taught the guys how to fight to defend themselves."

Adelina stared at him, digesting what he'd rattled off in a fit of nervousness. Casey stared right back, hoping that the spartan explanation he'd given her would be enough to let him off the hook. Then she leaned forward, an interested gleam in her eyes, and Casey gave an internal groan, knowing he was completely and totally stuck. He really should have known better.

"So how did you meet them? How does April know them? Why were they here at the farmhouse? Did they have something to do with the alien invasion?" She reached out and poked her son in the chest. Hard. "Start talking kiddo."

Casey winced and rubbed the spot. It was going to be a very long night.

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Splinter didn't say anything.

Raphael swallowed nervously. Okay, so maybe his voice wasn't talking, but the elderly rats body language was screaming volumes at him. His arms were folded, one clawed finger rapping against his kimono-clad arm. His tail was tapping out a steady rhythm against the cemented floors of the lair. Raphael had tried to meet his master's eyes and had been beaten down by the intensity of his gaze.

_Crud._

"How was I s'posed to know that Casey'd leave his Shell Cell just lying around?" he burst out suddenly, still glaring at the floor. His hands tightened into fists, an automatic defensive response. "He's always been real careful before!"

Splinter raised one furry eyebrow at his son. "Why were you calling Mr Jones?" He asked mildly.

Raphael sighed, and seemed to slump inwards, just a bit. "Nothing. No reason." His fingers twitched in agitation, and he ran a finger along one of his sai, drawing comfort from the cool steel.

"Raphael."

He winced at the commanding tone in Splinter's voice. It was the tone that said, 'do as I say', a tone Splinter did not use very often, unless he was concerned for their safety. Either way, Raphael was conditioned to respond to it, as all his brothers were.

"It's stupid," he muttered. "That idiot hasn't checked in with us in days, and I was just...I was..."

"Concerned?"

Raphael blinked as his master came forward two steps, bridging the distance between the. He rested a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. Raphael met Splinter's eyes. "Huh?"

"You are worried for your friend," Splinter said quietly, a small smile creasing his face. His eyes were warm and full of pride. "It is admirable for you to show such concern for his well-being."

Raphael had the distinct feeling that if he could blush, he'd be cherry-red right about then. "Geez, Master Splinter, you make me sound like a freakin' pansy or somethin'."

His master's smile grew slightly larger. "You are not a ...pansy, my son. I have always known the caring side of you to exist, even when you denied it to the very best of your ability. These recent years have shown an improvement in your temper, and a considerable lowering of your walls, my son. I believe Miss O'Neil and Mr Jones have played a large role in this."

If Mikey was listening outside Master Splinter's bedroom, Raphael was going to have to drown him in the pool. He would not be able to live knowing Mikey had heard Splinter talking about him softening up.

"Yeah, okay," he muttered uncomfortably. "So you're not mad that I got caught by his mother?"

Splinter sighed, and tugged absently on the tuft of fur at the end of his muzzle, an act he often did when he was thinking over the various situations his sons seemed to get into. "I am not mad, Raphael. It was an unforeseen event. I am just trying to decide on the best course of action."

Raph snorted. "If she's as on the ball as you and Leo say she is, then she's gonna figure out what she saw real quick. After that, Donnie says any hope of us remaining undiscovered will depend on Casey's ability to lie to his mother."

Splinter's widened at that, and then one hand came up to cover his face, massaging the point right between his eyes. "If that is the case, then I suspect we had best prepare ourselves for an eventual introduction."

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Casey's throat hurt.

_I want to go and get a glass of water,_ he thought reasonably to himself. _All I have to do is stand up, walk to the kitchen. Get a glass and pour myself some from the Britta in the fridge. Simple._

It was a simple task, well-thought out and planned in his mind. The only thing that remained was for him to get up and execute it.

_Uh-uh, no no no way, no how._

He sat there, perched on the edge of the sofa. The silence that had fallen over the room earlier was now like lead weight pressing down on him. He was afraid to move, to shatter the stillness. His mother was still sitting across from him on the sofa, staring at him blankly.

_Maybe I broke her?_

His story about the guys had been a long one. Casey hadn't bothered keeping track of the time, but he did know that it was very late and that he had been talking for a very, very long time. His throat was an aching testament to that.

His mother initially had a hundred questions, but once Casey had started speaking, she had stopped asking them, instead focusing on him with one hundred percent concentration. It had been... _unnerving_, to say the least. Casey shifted uncomfortably in his seat, freezing as his mother absently tracked the movement, before returning to her silent contemplation of his words.

_Maybe I shouldn'a told her about nearly getting drowned by the invisible ninjas_, he thought anxiously. _Or maybe getting caught in that tidal wave and nearly drowning the time me an' April an' Splinter were trying to find the guys. _The thought hit him that he'd had a lot of near-drowning experiences since meeting the turtles. He figured it must be because they were turtles. _If they were half-human and half-monkeys, I'd probably have concussions from falling out of trees._

Then of course, there was the stories about the fact that there had been aliens among them even before the Triceratons had invaded, looking exactly like typical humans, but actually being robots with talking brains in their stomachs. That was enough to unsettle anyone.

Maybe he had been right with his very first thought, and that was that he should have let Master Splinter handle it. Sure, people had a habit of fainting the first time he revealed himself, but then they all seemed fine. _Besides, I didn't faint, and Ma's tougher then I'll ever be._

Slightly nervous, he aimed another look towards his mother- and squawked as she suddenly loomed in his field of vision. One of her hands shot out with the speed of an attacking cobra and latched on to the front of his tank top, twisting, and yanking him closer to her.

"You are the vigilante they talked about on T.V?" she growled ominously.

Casey swallowed hard as he noticed the detailed muscles of her arms flexing. _This does not bode well_, he decided. "Uh...yes?"

The hand gripping his short suddenly let go, but before he could sigh in relief, the hand came back, this time backhanding across the face with the sound of a whip crack echoing throughout the living room. A faint sound of surprise escaped him as he fell back against the sofa cushion, one hand pressed against his jaw.

"MA?" He spluttered in shock. "What the heck was that for?"

"I've seen the news reports," she snarled. "I've seen how many of those Dragon guys you've apparently taken on. And now I suddenly know why our hospital insurance is taking such a beating. How many times have you been hurt, Arnold? Nearly killed?"

"It ain't as bad as you're making this out to be," Casey protested, still pressing himself into the cushions in an attempt to keep some distance between them. It didn't seem to be working his mother seemed to have filled his entire range of vision, glowering malevolently at him while she did so. "I'm still here, ain't I?"

"Yes. By the grace of God and who knows what else!" she snapped.

"Well, if by 'God', you mean 'turtles', then I guess you have a point." Casey rubbed his jaw, feeling a pout starting to form on his face. He hadn't had his face smacked like that in years- well, unless one counted the beating Hun gave him way back when he'd kept Angel out of the Dragon gang. Which he didn't. Hun was a chump. "I know how to handle myself, Ma."

"You could have been _killed_!" she insisted, still glaring at him. "You could have been killed, and _I_ would have been the one the cops called to tell me that my son was beaten to death in some alley--" she stopped suddenly, her face draining of color so quickly it was like someone had pulled her biological plug.

Alarmed, Casey leaned forward, one hand reaching out to her. "Ma?"

She grabbed his outstretched hand and yanked him forward. Casey had a brief moment of, "Huh?" before she let go and her arms suddenly shot out, wrapping around his neck with the strength of a python subduing its prey. Unsure of what to do, Casey awkwardly returned the embrace, hugging her gently. Of all the reactions he had expected to be confronted with, this wasn't entirely what he'd expected.

"Ma..."

"You could have been killed," she repeated quietly. No dramatic sobs, no melodrama for his mother. Casey was eternally thankful for that. "Do you have any idea what that would do to me, Arnold Casey Jones? To be told my son was killed by Dragon gang members just like his father?" She pulled back and looked him straight in the face, eyes burning with something old and painful that was hard for Casey to look at. "It would have killed me. Forget this damned disease, I'd already be dead."

Her hands were still gripping his shoulders. Casey brought his up to cover them, and then brought them back down in between them, feeling the tense stiffness to them -extra stress she didn't need, caused by him. He took a minute to compose himself, and then returned her searching gaze.

"I know," he said finally, just as quietly as she had spoken. "I know Ma. I knew then, but I couldn't make myself stop. I was so angry that I couldn't focus on anything but paying the Dragons back for what they did. I couldn't move past Dad's death- couldn't feel anything except anger." He sighed, and then despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't stop a small smile from forming. "That's when I met Raphael."

"The red one." Short. Curt.

Casey grinned. "Yeah, the 'red one'. Raph had a temper that could rival mine- still does, actually. We both do." The grin disappeared, leaving behind a somber, thoughtful expression. "His family have helped him get control of it over the years, and he was the one who made me see what my actions were doing to myself. I owe a lot to him and his family. They've gotten me out of a few situations where I would have been seriously hurt without them."

"Like the invisible ninjas."

"Yeah." Casey rubbed his face tiredly. "Like the invisible ninjas. And the Triceratons. And the Foot. And every other situation New York's come under and survived through."

His mother was still staring at him, still pale, faint traces of some emotion Casey couldn't quite pinpoint flashing through her eyes. He was still gripping her hands, he noticed, and made to let go, but she stopped him, holding on tightly. Her thumb rubbed roughly over the faint remnant of a particularly nasty scar Hun had left as a present on Casey's hand. It was just one of many, and he could see her eyes moving past his hands, up his arms, where even more scars littered his skin, fading with age, but not quite disappearing altogether.

"'That's quite the story you told me," she said at last. "Mutants, and aliens, and villains, battles and duels. And you and April, right in the middle of it all."

"We try to help, but me, I'm not so good at the whole ninja stealth thing," Casey shrugged. "April's picking it up pretty quick though."

"But you still...stick your neck out," she said, tracing a deep slicing wound near his shoulder with her eyes. "You could back out at any time. Why didn't you?" She tilted her head, looking at him, as though searching for something. "You could have come home."

The last bit was phrased as a statement but Casey knew his mother, and could hear the unspoken, 'why didn't you?' Luckily, he had an answer for that. "I couldn't run out on the guys," Casey said immediately. It was something he didn't need to to think twice about. "I may not be a ninja, but I got my own skills. I've taken on Shredder's elite ninja and got a few shots in. I helped Splinter and April find Bishop's hideout. I've fought beside them, I've laughed with them, I've cried with them and god damn it, I'll keep doing it." His fists clenched. "There's always something Ma. It's like this friggin' city is cursed- all the bad stuff centers here and the guys are always the ones who jump to its defense, without backup. No National Guard, no cops, not even the freakin' Justice Force gives 'em a hand, and they have their pretty, government-sponsored base right in the middle of the city!" He took a deep breath. "I'm not much more then a petty thug with an armory of sports equipment." His head snapped up suddenly, and gave his mother a look loaded with all the intensity he could muster. "But I'll back 'em up and protect _my_ city until the day some punk gets lucky and knocks me off. And that's that."

He was breathing rather heavily, he noticed with some surprise. His fists were still clenched, and he relaxed them with some difficulty. His gaze dropped away from his mother's face, and he flinched slightly as she reached out again, awaiting the fallout from his little outburst.

He was completely flabbergasted when her hand gripped his jaw very gently, and turned his face to meet hers again. She was still pale, and looked almost as tired as he did, but there was a tiny smile on her face.

"I'm very proud of you, Arnold. Casey." The smile grew. "My son. You are every bit the man your father was, and then some."

Casey choked, and suddenly his arms were wrapped around her shoulders, squeezing her almost as tightly as she had him, but she didn't make him loosen up. Dry sobs escaped his throat as he trembled in her arms, not wanting to let go.

He hadn't realized what a big deal it was to hide a secret like his from his mother- until he no longer had to hide it. The weight on his shoulders he'd been carrying had been almost invisible- something he'd become so accustomed to that it had been second nature to him. In telling her the story- every detail, every hardship, every victory and every defeat- he had slowly revealed the heavy weight of his secret to himself, sinking further and further beneath it with every sentence out of his mouth.

Her words were simple. Basic. Things he theoretically already knew, as every child deep down knows on some level that their parents love them and are proud of them. But hearing them is a lot different from simply knowing, and they put wings on Casey's burdensome lies and whisked the strain away, leaving Casey feeling lighter then he had in a very long time.

He snuffled a bit, and drew back, wiping his arm across his face. "I can't believe you're taking this so well," he said roughly, trying to achieve some semblance of normal.

Hos mother smiled at him. "Son, I didn't freak out the first time I saw your...friends. Since then, I've seen at least one of the alien invasions myself first hand. I sat down to watch the evening news and saw the city of Beijing fly off the freaking planet." She cocked her head to one side, smirking a bit. "What made you think I'd start panicking now?"

Casey blinked. "I...I don't know. 'Cause most people would?"

"I am _not_ most people," she sniffed, a hint of her old arrogance coming out. "Thank your lucky stars for that too, kiddo."

Casey nodded fervently.

Suddenly his mother blinked comically, and Casey sat up, concerned that maybe the shock was starting to hit her all of a sudden. "Ma?"

"You mean there are _green_ _Sasquatches_ living in our backyard?"

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"Casey's mother saw you," April repeated. Still rubbing her head with a towel- Mikey's idea of a post-spar cool down involved dunking the participants in the pool- she poked her face out to meet Raph's sheepish gaze. "'Attila the Mum' saw you, and knows for sure you exist?"

Raph snickered at her choice of words for Casey's mother, but nodded again. "Yep."

"And we're not all panicking becaaaaaaauuuusse...?"

"Because there is no point," Leonardo said, walking up to them, with Mikey in tow. Actually, with Mikey in a headlock. April wasn't the only one who had been surprise dunked. "After all, she already saw me and Splinter. It was a matter of time before she found out everything- I mean, it's _Casey_."

"Watch it bro," Raph said, a tad defensively. Leo's tone was bordering on insulting.

Leo held up a placating hand. "Sorry. I just mean, did we really expect Casey to lie to his mother? Convincingly lie? I don't think he can, nor do I believe he would want to."

"So whatta we do now?" Mikey asked. Wiggling his fingers, he drove them into Leo's side, making his leader yelp at the ticklish feeling, and let go of his head. Mikey zipped away, and reappeared on the other side of Raphael, apparently counting on his big brother to protect him from the Wrath of the Redhead and the Fearless One. "Do we do anything about this?"

"All we can do is wait for the fallout," Leonardo said, shrugging. April looked like she was about to say something, when all of a sudden, her Shell Cell beeped out from her purse. Everyone froze.

April walked over to her pile of gear and pulled her Shell Cell out of her purse and flipped it open. "Casey?"

"Yo April." Casey's face appeared on the tiny screen, his voice tinny and hollow-sounding. "I interrupting somethin'?" His brow wrinkled in confusion. "You go swimmin'?"

"It hadn't been on the agenda, but yes, Mikey made sure Leo and I enjoyed the pool tonight," she said dryly, shooting the aforementioned turtle a dirty look. Mikey made a '_who, me?_' face. "How are you and your mother doing?"

"...better." Casey looked a little embarrassed. "Did you hear what happened? I mean about the Raph and the Shell Cell?"

"About how your mother saw him?" April nodded, a wry grin on her lips. "Oh yes, that's old news on this home front."

The ex-vigilante looked vaguely embarrassed. He had one hand tucked behind his head, rubbing it awkwardly. "Well...I kinda had to do some explaining to my mother."

"How much explaining?" Leo asked, sticking his head around April's shoulder.

Casey blanched at the sight of him. "Well..."

"'Fess up, Case-meister!" Mikey chimed in, peering around April's other side with a grin.

He sighed and gave it to them straight. "...All of it."

"All of it?" Leo blinked, shocked.

"All of it," Casey confirmed.

"All of it?" April repeated in disbelief.

"All of it." Casey nodded his head emphatically.

Mikey grinned mischievously. "All of _MMPH_?--"

Raph's hand slammed across Mikey's mouth and he used his other one to give him a light whack upside the back of his head. "He said 'all of it', you guys. Can we move past that now?"

"Define 'all of it'," Leo ordered, eyes looking strangely hard and tense. Casey sighed.

"Well...I started with the Dragons, and meeting Raph, and then meeting alla'ya, the foot, the Invisible Ninjas, Shredder, April's place exploding, and then there was the Utrom building we broke into and the Utroms themselves, finding Bishops place, and that whole mess." Casey scowled. "She already knew about the Triceraton invasion--"

"Obviously," Raph said, rolling his eyes. Like there was a way to hide a full-scale invasion by a race of gigantic alien dinosaurs.

"--then there was the Green Man- Ma wants to go find them and see for herself now- and the bird-dudes and--"

"--so basically, everything," Leo said, cutting Casey off in mid-sentence. One hand crept up to rub his bandanna between his eyes.

Casey nodded, looking vaguely apologetic. "I'm sorry Leo," he said with a shrug. "But she's my ma, ya know? I can't lie to her, especially when she already knew about you to a point. Trying to keep a secret from her is like trying to keep a kid from sneaking downstairs to see Santa Claus."

"We know, Casey." Leonardo tried to smile reassuringly at the ex-vigilante. "We knew this would probably happen the minute Raphael told us what happened."

"So how'd she take it?" Raph asked, interested.

Casey rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "The thing is...well, after hearing about all that stuff...well, now, she, uh, wants to meet you." He ducked his head, sheepishly.

Silence ensued, lasting only until Mikey let out an excited whoop, flailing his arms, making April jump and Leo start.

"Roadtrip!"

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**Notes: **It was brought to me attention that there were a few small details I goofed over in Chapter 2 regarding Adelina's treatment. **Moonbeam**, from Stealthy Stories, was kind enough to provide me with links to more promising information, and I will try to rectify the errors in future chapters. Until then, please refer to the 'oops' as creative licensing, 'kay? Apparently it wasn't a huge error- one that only people involved in similar situations would really pick up on. If you didn't notice anything wrong, well, disregard this and enjoy the next bit.

Also, if the idea of a road trip seems a little...rushed, well you're right. All I can say is wait and see what happens next chapter - which is finished, and is being beta'd. I promise to avoid as many cliches as possible.

Again, thank you to everyone who has reviewed thus far. The more reviews I get, the faster I write because I then feel obligated. Use that as you see fit. :) Especially considering chapter 7 is nothing but an outline right now...heh. ;


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** One Hand Clapping 

**Author:** Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)

**Words (fic portion) for chapter 6**: 6022 (approx 18 OpenOffice pages)

**Rating: **PG13 for language

**Pairing: **Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad

**Summary:** **_Book 1_**. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed.

**Notes: **Once again beta'd by the wonderful **Red Rebel**. Slight warning of graphic descriptions near the end.

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Loud, wet-sounding coughs were what woke him up. Casey opened bleary eyes and listened to his mother hack and wheeze in her room down the hall. They were not an unfamiliar sound-his mother _had_ been a heavy smoker for a good part of her life, despite her otherwise healthy tendencies, and so he didn't immediately panic when one final loud burst from her ended in abrupt silence. A minute later, he heard faint muttering, and the sounds of her over-stuffed pink slippers scuffling down the hallway towards the bathroom.

Casey yawned, stretched and let a hand down to scratch his stomach idly before casting his gaze to the small, battered alarm clock that told him the time was seven twenty-something. The something part came from the fact that the final number on the display screen no longer registered, a direct result from Raphael throwing it at Mikey's head and actually connecting with it, one too many times.

Lots of time. With a faint groan, Casey pushed himself up and rolled over, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His mother's appointment had been set for ten thirty this time, meaning they had to be on the road in an hour if they wanted to make it on time. Most people probably wouldn't consider an hour enough time to prepare, but he was a graduate of the 'stick-head-under-sink-and-shake-like-dog' school of haircare. Granted, he then used a towel and then a brush to smooth it out, but the whole procedure took less then ten minutes to do.

His mother had similar methods. She preferred to shower at night, which meant mornings required about ten minutes to wash her hair at the large sink in the basement and brush it back, letting it dry naturally.

_Hell, we're gonna be early_, he groused. It was very tempting to consider flopping back over for another half hour snooze, but then his mother started hacking again, and he winced, opting to give in and stand up instead.

Eying the pile of clothes in the corner, half in and half out of his bag, he picked up two pairs of jeans and checked them, throwing the cleanest looking pair on and tossing the leftover to the other side of the room he'd mentally designated as the 'laundry basket'. He did the same thing for his stack of t-shirts and tank tops, sniffing the armpits to find the one shirt that wouldn't drive away everyone in a two-foot radius, and pulling it over his head before heading downstairs.

He passed his mother in the hallway who waved wearily at him as she disappeared back in her room. She was pale again, the dark shadows under her eyes looking like someone had cold-cocked her, giving her a matching set of eight-balls. One hand was clutching her robe to her chest, the other was trailing along the walls like she was relying on it to provide her with some measure of stability. Only the deadly look she shot at him as he passed her prevented him from offering to help her back to her room.

They needed to talk. And damned soon. But not now.

_Coffee_. Nectar of the gods, giver of life and keeper of sanity. _Yessss..._Casey loaded up the pot, dumping enough in for two cups and turned it on. A scrounge through the cupboards revealed a couple of boxes of fruit-and-grain protein bars which he decided would make an adequate breakfast. Carrying his bounty over to the table, he sat down heavily, unwrapping one of the bars and eating it in an effort to keep himself from falling asleep.

It had not been a pleasant night. Again.

The nausea seemed to hit his mother hardest at night, and he had woken up at three in he morning to the sound of her giving offerings to the porcelain god. It had been bad enough that she hadn't been able to close the door after her, and he had slipped inside. His mother hated for him to see her in any moment of weakness, but she had been too far gone to put up much of a fight, and so he'd held her hair back for her. It wasn't much, but at least it was something he could do, since his story-telling didn't seem to provide much of a distraction, and she was still refusing to take any more pills.

They had talked for a long time that night, before his mother had finally given in and had gone to bed, leaving Casey free to call April and get her take on the whole thing. He hadn't expected to be grilled by the guys so quickly.

It had taken a lot of fast words and back-pedaling to get Mikey to back down out of an immediate road trip. The hyper turtle was always in the mood for an adventure-particularly when said adventure took them to the farmhouse where they could be outside without being undercover-and had been all for heading upstate the following morning.

Casey wasn't ready for that yet. If the guys showed up, they'd know instantly something was wrong, and most likely, his mother wouldn't be able to hide it. Or she _wouldn't _hide it-it wasn't like she couldn't handle the group of them, after all. Which was the main problem, really.

His mother would probably eventually take to the guys like a duck to water, and that meant she'd consider them to be more people to hide any sign of weakness from. It was bad enough trying to get her to talk to him when it was just the two of them camping out at grandmas place-he had a pretty good idea her mouth would seal up tighter then Fort Knox around company.

Mikey had been disappointed, but he'd also been easily mollified when Casey promised to broach the idea of a visit to his mother. Raphael had been suspicious, but then, he always was, and Casey dismissed him. Ditto Leo-it was no surprise Leo had been demanding answers and information the second he found out Casey was on the line.

That had been two days ago. Casey didn't know long he could stall the idea to Mike or the rest of them-Leo seemed to be determined to meet his mother now that she knew about them. He had listened to Raphael snicker about Leo's rants on how they had to verify that she wasn't a threat and that she really, really understood the need for secrecy-never mind the fact that technically she'd known for a year already and had yet to call the papers to tell them about giant rats and turtles wandering around her property.

His mother walked in, one hand pressed against her stomach. Casey noted the faint green look to her face and decided not to inquire about breakfast for her. Instead, he gave her a weak-though hopefully encouraging-smile as she poured herself a glass of water and muttered something about being on the road in twenty minutes.

The ride up was pretty quiet. His mother nodded off about fifteen minutes in, and didn't wake up until Casey pulled into the hospital parking lot. Her eyes flickered open as he followed the signs-for some reason, he still didn't understand the twists and turns of the labyrinth deceptively labeled the hospital parking lot without guidance-and a quick glance at her out of the corner of his eye, caught a resigned and weary look crossing over her face before smoothly disappearing behind a calm mask of indifference.

"It's that time again," she said dryly as he parked his Chevy. Casey turned off the ignition and nodded. She opened her door, hesitated, and turned to look at him. "You don't have to come in with me."

Casey rolled his eyes and shot her a mild glare. "Yeah, I do. Gotta make sure you actually go inside, and not run out the back door or something."

"Mouthy brat."

"I come by it honestly," he pointed out, and there was nothing she could say to that. She snorted instead, and got out of the car. "Besides, Sid's supposed to meet us here today."

"I know." She led the way into the building, striding confidently down the hallway, nodding at the nurses and doctors she passed like a General inspecting the troops. Casey followed behind, content to let her dictate the pace and mood she seemed determined to set.

Punching the elevator button, Casey noticed his mother giving him an appraising look.

"I got somethin' on my face or what?" he asked her warily. The last time she'd had that look, he'd discovered no, he was NOT too old for the lick-the-thumb-and-wipe technique all mothers valued, as though a mother's saliva held magical antibacterial properties.

She shook her head, a small grin on her face. "Nah, nothing. Well, something." She cocked her head to the side. "I never thought you'd forgive Sid so easily."

"Since when do I hold grudges, Ma?"

"You don't. Except for certain cases. I figured Sid might almost be one of those 'unforgivable ones'."

The elevator arrived and they moved aside, allowing for a pair of orderlies to move an empty gurney past them before stepping inside. Adelina hit the number for the Oncology floor.

Casey shrugged, thinking about it. "Sid's family. And he wasn't a Dragon-not to start, anyway."

Adelina nodded at him but didn't say anything-just continued that flat stare that gave him the urge to confess anything he'd ever done or thought about doing in his entire life. He tried again. "I mean, he says that anyway. I dunno if it's true, but I think it is. Feels like it is, you know?" He sighed, and leaned back against the elevator wall. "Part of me is still pissed off at him, but I want to forgive him too. Stupid, huh?"

His mother smiled at him. "Actually, I think that's rather...mature." She winked as the doors slid open, and she walked out, leaving Casey in mild shock. Then he shook himself and followed her, muttering to himself. "Ain't mature -don't want to be, ain't gonna be."

It didn't stop her from smiling. He fumed.

When they stepped into the Oncology lounge, Casey's eyes zeroed in on the lean figure of his cousin sprawled out in the plastic chair. He had a baseball cap draped sideways over his head, arms flung out over the neighboring chairs, legs stretched out into the hallway as though trying his best to impede all the foot traffic the hallway provided. Casey snorted in amusement.

Adelina did one better and strode forward until she towered over the snoozing figure. Then she smirked, reared back and delivered a sharp kick into Sid's calf muscle. Sid came awake with a howl.

"God DAMN it you little fu--" His eyes finally registered who was there, and his mouth abruptly slammed shut, eyes wide. "Shit!"

"Nice to see you too, boy," Adelina drawled, folding her arms and eying her nephew with amusement. "Nice mouth, by the way."

Sid's face flushed. "Yeah, well, I didn't know it was you, Aunt Addie," he grumbled, looking away. Then his head swung back around and he glared at her, "That fuc—er, freakin' hurt!"

"It was supposed to. Maybe next time you'll keep your legs out of the hallways. Innocent people walk by here you know." Reaching down, she smacked his head lightly, and then ruffled his hair. Sid rolled his eyes.

Casey burst out laughing. "Sid, you look about sixteen years old right now. Ma, if you'd pinch his cheeks, it'd be the perfect finishing touch!"

Adelina looked as though she might consider it. Sid scowled and backed away, holding his hands in front of his face defensively. "Shit! Man, do _not_ give your mother ideas!"

"Adelina?" A familiar voice called out to them. "And of course, Casey!"

Bianca strolled down the hall, arms full of folders and miscellaneous papers. Casey's mother couldn't hide the smirk as the brightly smiling nurse hurried over to greet them. Adelina received a polite and friendly "Hello!" while Casey was treated to a one-thousand watt smile.

"I can walk you down to the therapy room if you like, Ms Jones," she offered graciously. "Unless I can do something for you, gentlemen?" She smiled at Casey again, but then directed a similar one at Sid, who grinned right back at her.

"I think we're good, Miss..." he trailed off expectantly.

She dimpled prettily at him. "Please, call me Bianca."

"Sid. I'm Casey's cousin." He winked and stuck out his hand for her to shake. Adelina rolled her eyes and then lightly touched the young woman on the arm as hint to get going. A final wave, and then they disappeared around the corner, Bianca sending them one last heated look before she was gone. Casey shot a look at his cousin.

"You might come in handy," he commented. "You can take her off my hands."

Sid grinned wolfishly. "Gee, now there's a burden," he drawled. "Pretty little thing, and sweet too. You sure you don't mind?"

Casey glared. "Um, hello? April? I don't need another sweet, pretty thing-I've already got one." He registered what he'd just said and amended it slightly. He didn't even want to _think_ about what April would do to him if he called her a 'thing'. "Sweet, pretty _woman_, that is. Cafeteria?" He jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. For some reason, he was feeling the urge to walk instead of taking the elevator again.

Sid shrugged, nodding. "Sure."

It was too early for sandwiches and salads, but the pancakes on the breakfast menu looked pretty good and smelled even better. _And it's cheaper then MacD's_, Casey thought with satisfaction. He looked over to see Sid making a face at the runny eggs, opting for a double order of toast instead, and grabbing a couple handfuls of jelly packets.

Finding a free table, Casey claimed it for them and sat down, pouring syrup over his pancakes and digging right in. In contrast, Sid took his time and did his best to drown his toast into submission using almost six full packets of strawberry jam. Casey raised an eyebrow. "Want some toast with your jelly?"

Sid grinned. "Oh come on, I've done worse than this."

Casey blinked-and then nodded. "True," he agreed. He shrugged. "But it's been a while."

Sid nodded, eyes on his toast floating in a lake of jelly. An odd smile passed over his face. "What time is it?"

Casey glanced at his watch. "'Bout ten-forty. Why?"

Sid looked up at him almost searchingly, and then the small smile disappeared as he didn't seem to find what he was looking for. "Nothing." He brandished his fork and used it in place of a knife, pressing down on a corner of his toast to sever it. "Cheers, cuz."

Casey saluted him with a piece of pancake and they ate in relative silence. It wasn't the relaxed kind of quiet that had come over them the day before, but a charged one. Obviously Sid had been expecting Casey to pick up on some kind of hidden signal, but Casey was clueless as to what it was. There was nothing odd about the time that he could think--

_Oh._

Casey snickered. Sid looked at him with confusion. "Case?"

The ex-vigilante waved his hand over their food, and gave him a knowing look. "It's almost time for 'elevenses'."

Sid's eyes lit up, and then he doubled over laughing, catching himself just before his hair fell into his jelly-lake. "I didn't think you'd remember!"

Casey grinned as memories of summer mornings with their grandmother flooded over him. Casey had always wanted pancakes, but Sid preferred toast-with as much jam as he could sneak before getting his fingers smacked. Growing up, the boys had had voracious appetites, and were seemingly always hungry.

Grandma Cassie had indulged her growing boys, always having plenty of snacks on hand and big, delicious meals to provide them with the energy needed to race around the grounds and terrorize the barnyard cats. Casey had been fine with whatever cookies, or granola bars he could find, but Sid always wanted toast if hunger struck him before noon.

It was even better after Grandma had finished reading her Tolkien books to them when Casey was eight years old, and Sid was just turning thirteen. The characters in the book who were _always_ hungry, had reminded their grandmother of themselves, and she had acted accordingly.

"Grandma Cassie's hobbits," Casey snickered. "God, I almost forgot."

"How could you forget that?" Sid snorted, still chuckling. "What did she say as we were growing up? Short, chunky, and with bottomless pits for stomachs. Thank God we each hit growth spurts to make up for all the thirds, fourths and elevenses she indulged."

"I never believed her when she said she thought our feet were getting hairier," Casey said, nodding his head.

The silence that had hit them early disappeared under the weight of far happier memories, and they whittled away at the rest of their meal, playing the age old game of 'remember when'. Any leftover negative thoughts, be they Sid's past or his mother's ailment in general, faded to the background, and he wound up ordering a second stack of pancakes alongside Sid and his renewed order of toast. Breakfast took them over an hour to complete.

For some reason, Casey would always look back on that breakfast as being one of the best he'd ever eaten.

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Somehow, on the way back up to Oncology, the discussion turned a bit more personal, and Casey found himself fending off questions about his apparent love life. Sid, normally rude and crude on the subject of women, was actually treating the topic with a bit more diplomacy then he ever had in the past, which meant Casey couldn't hit him. Yet.

"So you and April never did it yet?"

"SID!" Casey growled. "What the heck makes you think I'd tell ya somethin' like that?"

Sid grinned disarmingly. "Wishful thinking?"

Casey rolled his eyes and smacked his cousin upside the head. Despite the fact that Sid was the older of the two, it was like he had become the Michaelangelo of the Jones family. _Which would make me Raph_, Casey smirked. That would explain the head smacking.

"Look, April is...ya just don't talk about April like that. No locker room shit, okay? She's better then that." Casey leveled a stern look at his cousin who nodded and conceded the point.

"I gotcha, I gotcha. Still," Sid sighed. "She is a _fine _piece of work." He winked at Casey. "You are a damn lucky man."

"Don't I know it," Casey replied softly. A brief vision of flowing red hair and soft, glowing skin formed in his head. Long legs and a killer smile. Smart, sophisticated, with a great sense of humor. Strong. Loyal.

His.

_How the hell did I get so damn lucky?_

Sid was watching him with a knowing look when Casey came back to himself. "Took a detour into happy land, huh?"

Casey smiled. "Yeah."

"So how long you two been together?"

Casey blinked and thought about the question. "Um...not sure, really." But that didn't sound like the right answer-or even a good one, even to himself.

Sid was looking at him like he agreed with his mental thoughts, even though there was no way for him to have heard them. "Dude, how can you not know?"

"'Cause we're not really, _together_ together," he said, scratching his head sheepishly. "It's kinda weird."

"I'll buy that," Sid nodded. "You guys looked pretty 'together' at the farmhouse last year. What happened?"

"Nothing happened. Then or now." Casey led the way back into the waiting room, casting a suspicious look around for Bianca. She wasn't there but another nurse, in yellow scrubs this time, was grabbing some folders off the desk. "Excuse me, miss?"

The nurse looked at him. She was older, Casey was relieved to note, and had a professional, busy air to her. "Yes sir?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me how my mother's doing? Adelina Jones? She has chemo and radiation therapy today and it's been almost an hour since I seen her."

The nurse nodded. "I'll find one of the regular doctors or nurses and send them down to you - would that be all right? I'm not normally in this department, so I wouldn't know the particular details of your mother's treatment."

Casey nodded. "That'd be great. Thanks miss."

"Of course." She smiled and walked off down the hall. Casey watched her leave and then sat down on the plastic chairs - _from Hell_, he decided, shifting uncomfortably-and then blinked as Sid plopped down next to him, staring at him intently.

"What?"

"Yeah, like I'm gonna let you get away without finishing that little story." Sid snorted. "What do you mean you aren't together? You love the girl don't you?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "I do. 'Least, I _think_ I do." After all, that was a big, scary word to be throwing around casually.

"And she obviously feels something for you, right? I mean, you two were practically glued at the hip when I saw ya."

"She cares for me. She cares for everybody," Casey said, matter-of-factly. "It's just...it's never come up, ya know? We both know there's something there, but it's not like I have a claim on her or anything. We hold hands, we've gone on a few walks, but we usually get interrupted. I remember one time she specifically said flat out we were _not_ on a date when all of our friends thought we were. We ain't, like, official." Then he gave a goofy little grin. "But I do owe her a date for standing her up."

"You stood her up? And she didn't beat the crap out of you?"

"It was the night Ma came down, to tell me about, well, _this_." Casey waved his hand at the Oncology department they were currently sitting in, and Sid deflated instantly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_," Casey echoed.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, before Sid casually asked, "So, does she know?"

"Didn't tell her."

"Why not?" Sid looked confused, which made Casey grin a little. At least he wasn't the only one without a clue.

"Not really sure," he confessed. With a sigh, Casey leaned back and folded his arms, staring at the tops of his battered hightops like they held all the answers he was searching for. "She's got enough to deal with right now, and this is me and Ma's problem, not hers."

"That's a lousy excuse, kiddo," Sid said dryly. "From what I can tell of your girl, she'll probably be pissed off you ain't mentioned it yet."

"Probably," Casey nodded. He wasn't _that_ stupid. He was well aware that keeping secrets from April was not a good way to win her favor. That didn't mean he wasn't going to keep a few things to himself _temporarily_, though.

"So give me a better excuse."

Casey glared at his older cousin, who smirked at him innocently. "I ain't got one."

Sid grinned. "At least _now_ you're being honest about it."

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According to the doctor, his mother was proceeding with her treatments just fine, and there was nothing to worry about. That didn't prevent Casey from jumping to his feet the instant she appeared around the corner. Sid didn't necessarily jump, but he did get to his feet to follow behind.

"How ya feelin', ma?" Casey asked, looking her over anxiously. His mother shrugged, rubbing one arm slowly.

"Tired," she said wearily. "And cold. I should have brought my jacket."

Sid silently shrugged off his trench coat and handed it over without a word. Adelina looked at it like she thought it was going to disintegrate into a thousand pieces of worn and dirty leather, but then she shrugged and gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Sid."

"Sure."

She pulled it on and got one arm caught-Casey had to help her, and she shot him a venomous look, yanking her arm away. "I'm not helpless." she hissed, eyes flashing.

Casey was well-versed in dealing with his mother's 'evil eyes' and glared right back. "I never said ya were, ma."

"I can put on my own damn coat!"

"Technically, it's _my_ damn coat," Sid pointed out calmly, staring up at the ceiling as though it held the answers to life's mysteries.

Adelina glared and looked as though she was going to say something particularly scathing in nature, when her face paled and she swayed a little on her feet. Without saying a word, Casey had her by one arm, and Sid stood by the other, ready to assist her should she require it.

It was just a brief dizzy spell, a single moment of weakness - but it was enough to take the wind from her sails, and Adelina sighed, letting her anger seep away. It took energy she just didn't have at the moment to keep the fight going, and in the end, she didn't really want to fight her son. Or her nephew. What she wanted to fight didn't have a physical form for her to beat up.

Sid stood with her in the hospital entrance while Casey brought the car around. He offered to take the back seat, but she insisted she'd rather stretch out her legs and try to make up for the previous night's lost sleep, and wound up napping most of the way home. She woke up in time to hear Casey asking Sid about his apparent love life.

"--and I since you got such a kick out of grilling me, it's only fair."

"Well, ask away, cuz - just don't get angry if there ain't anything interesting. I told you, I don't have a girlfriend."

Casey tilted his head, briefly shooting Sid a considering look before returning his eyes to the road. "Boyfriend?"

Sid choked on a laugh. "Dude! I may have experimented a time or two in the past, but I generally prefer my dates blond and busty." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Experimented, huh? Sounds like you've got a few interesting stories hiding away after all," Casey commented, grinning. Then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Blond and busty, hmm? So I was right-there _is _a good chance you can take Nurse Horn-dog off my hands."

"Ahh, sweet Bianca," Sid sighed, putting a hand on his chest. "The very thought of her fair image doth stir my heart in my chest." He snickered. "Among other things."

"And that would be the part where I say I don't want to hear it," Adelina muttered, pushing herself fully upright in the back seat, coughing lightly. "How far out are we?"

"Be home in ten minutes, Ma," Casey said, tossing her a concerned look in the rear view mirror.

Sid turned around in his seat. "How ya feelin', Auntie Addie?"

_Sore. Tired. Nauseas._ "Fine," she said shortly.

Casey and Sid exchanged knowing looks and she fought back the urge to stick her tongue out at them. _Just who is the adult here?_ She fumed silently. Thankfully, they let the subject drop for the time being. The farmhouse eventually came into view on the horizon, and as they drew closer, Sid blinked.

"You cut the grass? I thought something that wild and untamed would put up more of a fight."

Casey thought of Mikey and Donnie subduing the lawnmower and attacking the lawn with war-whoops and battle cries. "You'd be surprised."

He pulled up in front of the house next to his mother's Volvo. Adelina got out unassisted and stretched. She still felt a bit shaky but she didn't want to go in and lie down just yet. "Gonna give Sid the tour?"

Casey eyed her strangely. "Ma, we spent every summer here when we was kids. And he refreshed his memory when he was here last year, remember?"

Adelina waved her finger at him. "Ah, but he didn't see the new and improved farmhouse-that-Casey-built."

Sid nodded. "Yeah, Case-man-I'm impressed. I had no idea you were such a talented Holly Homemaker." He grinned at Casey and ducked the automatic swing at his head. "When you were doing all these repairs bro, I hope you didn't replace the barn wall."

"What, remove the proof of your idiocy?" Casey shook his head. "Never. C'mon, I'll show ya what's been added."

"I'll go and get dinner started, boys," Adelina said, glancing at her watch. It was still early afternoon-her treatments had been finished by one o'clock, and the ride home barely took two hours, but none of them had had lunch. If she knew the boys-and she most certainly did - they were starving and wouldn't object to a early meal. Casey glanced at her again, and she stifled the automatic sigh that tried to escape her.

"I'm fine, Casey. I slept most of the way home, remember?" She reached out and gave them both a shove, sending them stumbling forward. "Go. Explore. Play. Visit the Sasquatches. Weed the garden. Something. Anything. I don't care what. I want one hour's peace from both of you, understand?"

"Yes ma'am," they chorused. Adelina nodded sharply, turned, and went into the house. As the door slammed shut behind her, she heard Sid ask in a confused voice,

"Sasquatches?"

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Despite her careful dinner preparations - heavy on the light, easily digested foods that were easy to re-wrap for snacking on later - and going to bed early in an attempt to placate her son and nephew by taking it easy, Adelina still woke up at midnight with that familiar feeling.

"Damn it," she croaked, and flung the covers off, rolling over to try and make it to the bathroom in time. A wave of dizziness overcame her and she stumbled in mid-step, going down to one knee. The change in elevation sent a direct signal from her brain to her stomach and she vomited right there, on top of her pink, fuzzy slippers.

Gasping, she sat back and tried to catch her breath but a second surge hit her and she doubled over again, hands planted against the floor, bracing herself while her stomach did its best to turn itself inside out. Tears leaked down her face, dripping off her cheekbones and she panted, harsh, open-mouthed gasps that only helped suck the smell back in. She threw up again.

Vomit pooled around her hands, her hair dangling in it, and it took every ounce of strength to keep herself from planting her face in the god-awful mess.

"Arnold," she choked out. By the gods, she did _not_ want her son to see her like this, but she needed help. Her vision was blacking out at the edges, and she did not want her obituary to read 'drowned in her own puke.' Her voice was little more then a rasp, but she tried again. "Casey..."

A light turned on in the hallway, the familiar tattoo of footsteps heading for her room. Her door swung open, letting the light shine in on what she knew had to be the most revolting scene her son could ever think to see. He stood there in the doorway, a silhouette framed by the light of the naked bulb in the hallway, probably frozen in disgusted shock.

She couldn't do it. Her head lowered an inch, her arms were wobbling. "Case--"

And then he was there, an arm wrapped gently around her waist, lifting her up. She knew she looked gross, vomit splatter all over her face, hands and hair, but her son didn't hesitate for even a minute. He slipped his other arm under her knees and picked her up, cradling her to his chest as carefully as a mother with a newborn, like she had once held him. She closed her eyes, letting tears of pain and exhaustion have free reign over their actions, and they chose to slide down her face, adding to the mess she'd already created.

Casey murmured something and her eyes snapped open to see Sid's tall form whirling around and running out of the room. _God, how bad do I look if I can send grown men running for cover?_ She thought, closing her eyes again, but then she heard the sound of water running and realized her nephew had gone ahead to ready the bathroom for her. Casey carried her out into the hallway and Sid came out, gesturing for them to go in. Adelina cracked one eye open, almost afraid of what she'd see on his face. Disgust, maybe the look of one grossed out beyond all belief, or maybe something else, like resignation, as though he'd probably signed up for this by agreeing to come to the farmhouse in the first place.

She wasn't ready for him to lay a hand on her arm in an attempt to offer some sort of comfort. She blinked, a bit stunned at the look of concern and worry on his face, and she shut her eyes again.

Casey set her down on the toilet seat lid. She could hear him rummaging around for things and then he was asking her to look at him. She did.

"Ma, do you need help?"

Embarrassment flooded through her and pride made her thrust her vomit-covered jaw up. "I can take it from here," she said. Her breath was still coming in heavy pants, but not the pained wheezing it had been a few minutes ago.

Casey looked frustrated, but then he nodded. Sid knocked on the door and Casey strode over and opened it, accepting a cloth bundle Adelina recognized as her spare pajama set. He put it on the counter and then looked at her again.

"I'll be right outside. I'll leave the door mostly closed, but I want it open a bit in case you fall or are sick again. Okay?"

Adelina growled. "I _will_ be sick again if I have to sit here smelling this much longer."

Casey glared at her, and repeated, "Okay?"

"Yes!" She barked at him, humiliation sweeping through her. Bad enough her son was getting used to her midnight throw-up sessions, but tonight's little episode left her with no illusions left. She was in no position to argue with him over what she could and couldn't do and she knew it, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Or be nice about it. She pointed a finger at the door. "Get out!" Belatedly, she tacked on a, "Please," to take a bit of the sting out. Casey nodded and left. True to his word, the door was left cracked open about half a foot.

Moving as slowly as molasses in January, she pulled her soiled pajama top off, and shucked out of the bottoms. The water was already hot and steaming, and she stepped in, giving a sigh of relief as the warm spray erased the sick taint from her body. She braced her arms against the wall and let her head hang directly under the nozzle, watching with a trace of morbid amusement as solid clumps of what used to be dinner fell with soft 'splats' to the ground, swirling around the drain.

It hit her then. It had begun. What Doctor O'Brien had been saying would happen. Her son would watch her die, and this was the first step. Tonight, Casey had seen her as weak as a newborn kitten, scrabbling on the floor in her own puke, helpless, like she'd never considered herself to be in her entire life.

Her lip twitched and she bit it savagely, sending a spark of pain jolting through her face. But the move didn't stop what was about to happen-what needed to happen, and Adelina felt her face crumple, squeezing her eyes shut in a last ditch effort to hold her emotions at bay.

It didn't work.

Adelina gasped, and then thick tears began streaming down her face, mixing with the shower spray, and harsh sobs began to erupt from deep within. The last thing she thought before she gave over completely, was that she hoped the sound of the falling water would block the sound of her crying.

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She stayed in the shower as long as she could, but it seemed like no time at all had passed before Casey was at the door, giving it a light tap of warning. "Ma?"

"Yeah," she croaked. "Coming."

She turned off the water and grabbed a towel, still moving slowly. The world was not exactly a stable place for her at the moment. She took a few minutes to dress and brush her teeth, noting with zero amusement that Casey never wavered from his post by the door.

_Stubborn. Over-protective. Gee, I wonder where he gets it from?_

Adelina smiled. It was a small smile, tainted with exhaustion, but it was there, and with it came a small amount of her self-respect. Just enough, that she felt she could face her son again, and she pushed the door all the way open to see her son staring at her.

She opened her mouth to thank him for taking care of her.

"Did you have fun cleaning up?" was what came out instead.

Casey cocked his head to the side,and she wondered a tad hysterically if he was going to insist on them hashing it out while she had the physical and emotional strength of a used piece of tissue. Then a hint of amusement joined the concern on his face, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "This is revenge for all those times I threw up on you as a kid, right?"

"You bet," she said, nodding devoutly. "Considering how many times that happened between the ages of one day to two years, plus your third birthday party when you stole three extra slices of chocolate cake, and the bronchitis you got every year, eight years in a row...I think I still have a ways to go before we're anywhere close to being even."

Casey shrugged. "You forgot the circus when I was seven," he pointed out, mildly. "Two bags of cotton candy, a caramel apple, and three hot dogs before the Tilt-A-Whirl did NOT make for a happy ending."

"Oh, I don't know," Sid said casually, joining them in the hallway. "I had fun that day."

"You weren't the one that had to clean him up," Adelina muttered. But she took in the water spots on his clothes, and the plastic bag dangling from one hand. _But apparently, he did the clean up this time._

Her embarrassment threatened to make a return. Sid seemed to notice though, and leaned forward, giving her a kiss on the cheek and a gentle, "Good night," before disappearing downstairs to dispose of the bag. Casey walked her to her room and she blinked at the sight of a large bucket sitting on the floor by her bed. She glanced at Casey and saw him fidget, obviously expecting her to say something.

She sighed and gave him a wry grin. "Too bad we didn't think of this before bedtime."

Casey chuckled. "Yeah." He leaned forward and kissed her other cheek. "Good night Ma. Shout if you need me, okay?"

She almost brushed him off with her usual reply of how she'd be fine, when she saw beyond his smile for just a second. It had wavered, like a holographic card that had a hidden picture lying beneath the surface, that appears when you tilt it a certain way. The concern in his eyes, the taughtness of his jaw, the pale tint in his skin-they all revealed to her once again that she wasn't the only one scared. She relented.

"I will," she said instead, making it a promise. Casey smiled, a real smile this time, and Adelina fell asleep feeling a bit better after all.

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**End Chapter 6**

**Notes:** Not quite sure where the LotR reference came from but it just hit me while I was writing and it demanded to be added. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's hard balancing Adelina's mentality with her sickness and finding a level of reality without becoming too cliched.

**One Small Monkey** helped me with revisions for chapters 1 and 2, so I'll be posting the cleaned (again) versions shortly. Thanks **OSM**!

Chapter 7 is plotted out but remains to be actually written. Okay, I have 2 pages. Heh. Same goes for chapter 8 (well, minus the 2 pages). I need some motivation. Blah.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** One Hand Clapping 

**Author:** Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)

**Word Count for chapter 7**: 7779 (approx 16 OpenOffice pages)

**Rating: **OverallPG13 for language

**Pairing: **Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad

**Summary:** **_Book 1_**. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed.

**Notes: **Once again beta'd by the wonderful **Red Rebel**. A filler chapter with dialogue between Casey and Sid. I hope you find it interesting, even if the TMNT boys are a no-show. I swear, by the end, you'll know why this was necessary. I promise to make up for it with the boys next time.

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Sid woke up to the sound of light coughs coming from Aunt Addie, and low murmurs coming from his cousin. Casey's murmurs had a faint hint of exasperation to them, and though he couldn't quite make out individual words, he could probably guess at what was happening. Auntie Addie was likely embarrassed about what had happened during the night, and was most likely going to spend the whole day proving that she wasn't a weakling, or something equally stupid, and drive Casey absolutely bonkers.

He grinned. It sounded like it would be fun to watch. _Better get moving so I don't miss the floor show_. He tossed the blanket off and grabbed his clothes.

By the time he got downstairs, Casey was standing in front of the coffee machine, arms folded, a death glare leveled at the caffeine dripping into the mug. Adelina was mixing a bowl of instant pancake batter and ignoring him. Snickering silently, Sid strode into the kitchen, waving good morning.

"What did poor Mr Coffee ever do to you?" Sid asked Casey, still grinning. He slipped into one of the chairs, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl in the middle. "It can't be enough to warrant a level two 'stare-of-doom'."

Casey raised his eyes briefly, glaring balefully. "Bite me."

_Now that was completely uncalled for_. Sid pouted. "Ouch, harsh." He stuck out his tongue in retaliation, and proceeded to strip his orange of its peel in a single take. Holding up the orange spiral, he nodded with satisfaction. "Oh, look at that. I am _so _good."

Casey glanced at him and the orange, and a brief look of amusement replaced the ire in his eyes. He relaxed fractionally, arms uncrossing. "You like to think so."

"I know so," Sid insisted. It was so easy to play his cousin like a violin. He turned to look at his aunt, batting his eyes. She was a tougher nut to crack, but he knew how to handle her. "Everyone says so. Right Auntie Addie?" He poured on the extra charm as he said her name, batting his eyes at her, and and he silently cheered as she played along with him.

"You bet, Siddy," she agreed, eyes still on the pan in front of her.

_Hey, hey, hey – no nicknames! _Sid pouted at his aunt who ignored him, but didn't hide the smirk on her face. He knew she knew exactly what he was thinking – he had _hated _that name with a passion, growing up. Casey snorted, a grin finally forming. _Success!_ It was funny how after all those years away, he still remembered how to play his role in the family.

"So what's on the agenda today?" he asked, separating his orange. "My ride ain't comin' for me until this afternoon, so I'm good for about anything."

"In a rush to get away?" Casey asked.

Sid rolled his eyes. "I only got two days off, ya idjit. 'Course I am the boss – well, one of them, anyway - but if I stay away from the garage too long, the morons will probably wind up burning it to the ground." He popped an orange slice in his mouth, waiting for the surprise to hit them.

_Bingo._ Casey blinked at him, and even Auntie Addie turned around to face him in surprise. He snickered at the pole-axed expressions on their faces. "Oh, didn't I tell you?" The innocent tone just wasn't working for him, he could tell. Two pairs of eyes stared at him.

"Tell us?" Casey echoed. Mr Coffee finally finished filling his cup, and he turned off the machine, bringing his drink to the table. "What garage?"

"_My_ garage. Shit man, I told ya I was good with a toolbox." Sid gave him a mock-glare. How dare they forget the details? "You think I lied or somethin'?" He tossed another orange section into his mouth, licking the juice off his fingers. Adelina rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at the napkins piled up in the center of the table. Sid deliberately gave her a confused look and licked his finger again. She snorted and let it drop, going back to her pancakes.

The winner, and still champion of the non-verbal battles. _Victory is mine!_ Sid cackled mentally.

"No, but you also said you worked in a garage when you were with the Dragons." Casey had ignored Sid's little by-play and he had a blank look on his face now. It was a little scary to see. _Especially_, Sid mused, _since I now know just who it was behind that hockey mask._

Then Casey's words sank in, and Sid finally realized what his little surprise was starting to sound like. He held up his hands, letting an orange slice fall to the table. "Not what it looks like, cuz." He snatched the abandoned orange back up and tossed the slice slice into the air, catching it in his mouth. "Two points!" He cheered automatically. Grinning, he wiped his mouth and continued. "Remember I said the gang scattered after I got caught skimming the boss?"

"Yeah.'

"Well, you bailed me out of the Dragons. They let me go, free and clear. Not quite sure why, but hey, who cares." Sid shrugged. He was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. One could get a lot of cool, free stuff that way. "Anyway, we regrouped and opened a place of our own. A buddy of mine had a garage but he needed help and didn't wanna do it alone. He asked me to go in on it with him, and we all just kinda...fit in."

Well. That was sort of how it happened. The short and sweet version. Sid shrugged mentally. The long version was boring anyway.

"Honest work?" Casey asked, raising an eyebrow. Sid cocked his head in confusion until he remembered what he'd told Casey about client retention for the Dragon's operation. His eyes widened.

"Oh. No, nothing like that. Just plain old mechanic shit. Fluke owns the building, rat trap that it is, and we do good work. Not making the Fortune 500 flow we could'a been like with the Dragons, but after all that shit went down and I nearly got friggin' killed, well..." Sid shrugged again. "It's safer for now." He smirked at his cousin. "I should thank you, you know. After all, you and April got me out of the Dragons. They moved back into the city to help with something big going down, and never came back. Haven't seen Spuds or his boys around in almost nine months."

Casey looked as though he wanted to say something, but changed his mind at the last minute, and instead came out with, "Fluke?"

A detour. Sid liked detours. Especially around topics that weren't exactly of the happy, cheerful variety. Sid nodded, smiling at the memory. "Name's Luke, but he got in a fight one night. He was loaded, and hit on some girl at O'Malley's – s'a bar, near the garage – and didn't notice her two hundred pound, construction worker boyfriend. The guy swung at Luke, and Luke ducked for cover, like the damn chicken shit he is. Dude lost his balance, fell over and hit his head on the bar. He was out like a light. Luke was damn lucky – he can't fight for nothin'." Sid chuckled. "Luke's fluke, we called it. And then we called _him_ it."

Casey laughed. "Good one."

Adelina brought the first batch of pancakes over to the table, setting them on the table. Casey jumped up and got the syrup and butter from the fridge, and the conversation took a brief hiatus while they stuffed their faces. They knew better then to talk with their mouths full with Adelina in the room with them. It was a rule that had always been strictly enforced, and it was easy to fall back into the routine. Sid chalked it up as being yet another thing from childhood that just kinda stuck with a person, no matter how much time has gone by.

Besides, he didn't want his knuckles rapped. Those big, heavy, antique spoons of Grandma's freakin' _hurt_.

Sid watched as his aunt picked at the pancakes, seeming more content to just sit and listen and observe, rather than participate in their earlier discussion. He wanted to ask how she was doing, but he had a feeling his solicitousness wouldn't exactly be appreciated. Far from being weak in his eyes, he still knew that his opinion and her opinion, wouldn't really be meshing.

Casey swallowed the last of the stack in front of him and jumped up to get more. As he did, he tossed a question back at Sid, who blinked in surprise. "So whose coming to get you later?"

"My roommate," he replied, automatically. Another small detail he'd forgotten to mention, but there were just so many of them. He couldn't be bothered. And it hadn't even occurred to him to mention that he wasn't living alone.

Casey cocked an eyebrow. "Roommate?"

"Two years now," Sid said, nodding, watching with a grin as Casey and Adelina did the whole surprised look-exchange thing. He decided to add one more surprise to the mix. "_She'll_ be here around three or so."

"She?" Casey blinked. "You said you didn't have a girlfriend."

"And I don't. She's a friend. Name's Cal – she used to date one of the Dragons until he got too rough. He wound up being arrested during a break-in – he assaulted an officer. Dude won't be out for years." Sid shrugged. That was completely fine with him. Cal's ex wasn't one of his, and he felt no loyalty to the thug who had obviously bitten off more then he could chew when he decided to take on part of the NYPD. "She's part of the gang I joined back in high school – I couldn't let her suffer or nothin', so she moved in with me. I give the evil eye to her new boyfriends, she makes sure I eat something and cleans up the place, and we both work at the garage. Works out well for the two of us." He smiled. Now that he thought about it, it really did work out well.

He glanced at Casey, and hid a fond look quickly before his cousin could see it. His life truly had changed for the better that night he'd been 'saved' by Casey and his girlfriend. He made a mental note not to tell Casey – the last thing he wanted was the younger man strutting around acting like he owned him or something.

His aunt quickly steered him back towards the conversation. "You sure that's all there is between you two? Just friendship?" Adelina asked, interested in the subject matter, but still a bit quieter then she normally would have been. Sid ran his eyes over her quickly, noting the very faint shakiness in her hands, and decided to indulge his aunt. Helping her take her mind off her illness was the very least he could do.

"Yup," Sid confirmed, resigning himself to a mild interrogation. "I ain't interested in her like that, and neither is she. We tried dating in high school anyway – never felt right." Popping the last slice in his mouth, he started peeling another orange. "So yeah, she'll be here at three, like I said. So, what's the plan for today?" Resigning himself didn't mean he couldn't attempt a subject change though.

"Not much." Casey drizzled a liberal amount of syrup over his new stack. Sid watched, scowling. For a guy who liked to tease him about the way Sid tried to drown his toast, he certainly was attempting to do the same to his pancakes. "Almost got that tractor working, and the furnace needs looking at. It was rumbling the other day."

"I can give ya a hand," Sid shrugged. He grinned. "Maybe I can make a bigger dent in the barn this time." He waggled his eyebrows comically.

"Spare me," Casey moaned, but he was laughing, and so was Adelina, so Sid was reasonably pleased with himself. He was also half-serious. Riding the lawn mower had been his favorite thing in the world when he was younger – once he'd learned how to do it properly, that is. His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

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Breakfast went by quickly after that, and Adelina made them do the dishes. Sid washed and Casey dried, since he knew where everything was supposed to go. His aunt took advantage of having her 'man-slaves' at her beck and call, and decided to spend the morning in the living room, relaxing with a book she'd produced from somewhere.

Sid followed his cousin outside to see his old collision-course partner.

The repair job actually took much less time then they'd originally anticipated. Casey had done a good deal of it on previous days, and what was left was...well, two mechanics plus one three-quarters finished tractor equaled one easy job that took them less then an hour to complete. However, persuading Casey to let him give it the old college try one more time at the barn wall proved to take a bit longer.

"Please?"

"_No_, Sid. I _like_ having the barn wall in one piece."

"Spoilsport." Sid harumphed, and folded his arms, glaring childishly at his cousin. He was fully aware that his actions were astoundingly immature, but he couldn't help it. The lure of mischief in him was as strong as the lure to money had been for him. Casey was younger too – he should have been begging for the first try!

Suddenly, Sid grinned and leaned over the tractor, resting his arms on the worn seat. "Fine. No crash test dummies practice. On my honor." He crossed his heart.

Casey finished packing up his toolbox and then looked up at him suspiciously. "Honor?"

"Hey! I'm not THAT bad!" Sid scolded him. It was true. Hadn't Casey ever heard of 'Honor Among Thieves'? Sid was positive he had as much honor as any thief.

Casey rolled his eyes. "What about the furnace?"

Sid brightened. "Any chance you'll let me turn it into a flame-thrower?"

Casey paused and looked at Sid warily. "You're not serious are you?"

Sid tapped his nose. "Wouldn't you like to know?" It wasn't like anyone had _died_ or anything.

"Actually I would. As in, do I need to start posting a guard around the damn thing?"

Casey really _was_ getting perceptive in his old age. Sid sniffed. "Geez, one little explosion, and no seems to trust a guy ever again."

"Explosion?"

"When Cal gets here, you can ask her. Just for future reference, I'm denying everything she accuses me of, unless I get a chance for rebuttal."At the very least, he deserved a chance to defend himself. Cal could throw some pretty low blows when she wanted to, and Sid paled slightly at the thought of all the ammunition she probably had stored against him. "She doesn't play fair."

His cousin snorted and shook his head, tossing the last of the tools in the box. "I'm starting to understand why your parents up and moved halfway around the world to get away from you."

Sid felt the smile on his face freeze as the seemingly innocuous statement from his cousin hit him with silent force.

Of all the topics he had expected his cousin to engage in, this was the last one on his list he ever wanted to mention. He couldn't help it – the ingrained trigger reflex to strike back against what he heard as hurtful words was strong, but he wrestled the urge down. Casey didn't know. He couldn't know. He didn't mean it.

Still, despite his best efforts, when he spoke again, it came out as a glacial coldness that swept through the area. "Let's not go there. Deal?"

Casey must have heard the warning in his voice, because he didn't make an immediate, snide comment. Instead, Casey closed the toolbox lid and focused his attention at Sid, head tilted to one side in a definite questioning manner. "Sid?"

Sid closed his eyes, and tried again to take the icy edge from his words. "Yes?" He barely succeeded.

"Anything ya wanna share with the class?" The words might have been flippant, but the the tone was not.

For a brief second, Sid entertained the thought of joking his way out of saying anything more, but the look on Casey's face was one that he recognized all too well. He'd have an easier time getting a starving pitbull to drop a turkey drumstick. He probably couldn't do it anyway – the wounds were old ones, but they were still painful. Sid sighed and looked away. "Nah. Nothing to share."

Nothing important, at any rate. Casey had enough on his plate to handle, and the fact that he knew almost nothing about why Sid had joined a gang, or why he'd gone through such an abrupt change at such a young age, well...that just meant it was a huge thing to land on him, and Sid didn't feel up to it. The good feelings he'd been having all day started to fall to the back of his mind, being replaced with memories he really didn't want to bring up. Silence reigned for almost a whole minute, and Sid wondered vaguely if maybe Casey would drop it after all. He looked back at his cousin.

"Ya're full of shit, Cuz," Casey said mildly, staring evenly at him.

Of course he wouldn't. _I do believe my language is starting to truly rub off on him_. Sid considered glaring and then decided it wouldn't do much good, and went with a disarming grin instead. "Turnin' my eyes brown, is it?" If he couldn't joke it off, he'd do the next best thing. Deflect and shield, his two greatest strengths. He had no compunctions about using them on family members either, considering they played the same game themselves.

It was for that reason, that instead of the witty comeback he was waiting for, he was blindsided and struck by the look of..._disappointment?_...Casey threw back at him. Sid blinked, confused. "Case?"

This wasn't in the script.

Casey suddenly flopped down on to the grass, leaning back on his hands and staring up at Sid who was still peering over the tractor. "Look, it's bad enough comin' from Ma, but now you gotta start too?"

_Back up. Rewind_. "Say what?" Sid cocked his head to the side, utterly confused. "What did I do? What did Aunt Adie do? " Whatever he was expecting out of his cousin's mouth, that wasn't it. "You gotta explain this to me Cuz, 'cause I have no idea what you're talking about."

Casey pointed at him. "This. You. The whole, 'not talking' thing. Look, I can tell when I've said something I probably shouldn't have – I have a lifetime's worth of experience in picking out the different tones in a person's voice that tell me 'don't go there.' It sounds an awful lot like the tones used by people also trying to get me to leave public places without causing a scene."

Sid blinked. "Your point?"

"My point is, obviously there's a mental landmine I just tripped, and instead of talking to me about it, you try to blast me with an arctic freeze attack."

"...kudos for the D&D reference," Sid said, after a minute of silence. It was a vague attempt to delay the fact that Casey had a point. Casey being loud and aggressive was normal, something Sid could handle and/or deflect with relative ease. Casey being perceptive and pointed was not. "But if the tone of my voice clearly states 'go away' to you, I'm not sure why you're naggin' me for details."

Casey rolled his eyes, glaring at him. "Because I refuse to deal with three mental breakdowns at once." His cousin sighed and slumped back on the grass, staring up at the sky.

_Three?_ Sid watched him for a minute, and then tentatively asked, "Three?"

Still on his back, Casey raised one arm into the air and held out a fist. "Ma." One finger shot into the air. "You, for some reason." His middle finger joined his index. "And quite possibly me, after dealing with breakdowns one and two." The third finger was lifted, and Casey pointed the united digits at Sid. "Get it?"

Sid nodded. He did, really. It was understandable. Casey and his ma were under incredible stress, and he had come waltzing back into their lives, inserting himself into their crisis. While he hadn't had any intention of deliberately making his family's life any harder then it currently was, it seemed he was still capable of creating problems without even trying. He supposed it was a latent ability of his. Cal would probably agree with him. He decided he'd have to ask her opinion later.

Casey raised his head slightly to look at him. "I told ya, you're family Sid. We may have stuff to still work out, you and me, but I'm still here to listen. If you want."

A stab of guilt twinged in Sid's gut. "I do," Sid said quietly. "But it ain't a big deal, and I don't wanna add on to what you already gotta deal with." Anymore then he already had, that is.

Casey nodded. "Fair enough. Just tell me – what did I piss you off about so much that you wanted to momentarily beat the crud outta me?"

Sid chuckled wryly. "That would be opening up that can of worms we're trying so delicately to avoid doing."

Casey snorted. "Well, how am I supposed to avoid the subject if I don't know what it is?"

The man had a point. Sid sighed and cupped his chin in his hand. The chill he'd felt from earlier was gone, and Sid considered what he should do. The topic was very much a sore point with him – but Casey didn't know that. It wasn't fair to blast the man for something he knew nothing about. He'd already snapped at him, an automatic response to be fair, but he still shouldn't have done it. Adding in his cousin's general forgiveness, and his welcome back into the family, and well...

_I owe an explanation at the very least. _

Sid rubbed his hand over his face, drawing his fingers over his nose and pinching the bridge. "It was what you said about my parents, about them moving around the world to get away from me." Sid closed his eyes. He _really_ didn't want to get into this.

Casey sat up again, looking serious. "Shit, man, you know I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Even if it was true?" Sid asked abruptly. _Calm, calm_. It was an instinctive response to react like he did, but he reminded himself that Casey deserved an answer to his question. He stared down at the grass, the flowers, the trail of dirt leading to the barn doors – anything to keep from having to look his cousin in the face. The truth about his little exodus from the family graces really wasn't one for the highlight reels. His eyes flicked up to gage his cousin's response, hoping his cousin would heed the mental plea in his head.

Unfortunately, Casey had his stubborn look on. "Sid..."

"Look, it's nothing. Really." Sid sent a weak grin at Casey, refusing to flinch when Casey's glare crushed it head on. He sighed. If there was no getting around it, well, he could be just as direct as his cousin. "It's a sad fact of life but not everyone has the great relationship you did with your parents. The kind that you still have with your mother today. I left home because while my mother was still a good woman, my father was less then the image of the ideal father. I think Dad moved himself and Mom 'round the world so I wouldn't show up on their doorstep looking for a handout. It was a little more expensive then the classic 'wrap the lunch in a road map and move', but it got the point across." He ended with a light laugh, trying to ease over the reality of his words, ignoring the little twist in his stomach.

For a minute, Casey didn't say anything, but Sid knew there was no way he was just going to let that little number drop. _Light tones be damned. When did Casey get so damned perceptive?_ And why did he have to choose that day, that moment, to exercise his new powers on _him_?

Then Casey tilted his head, looking up at him questioningly. "I thought you said you talked to your mom a short time back. Soon after me an' April got ya away from the Dragons?"

Sid just...breathed. "I did. To her and her alone. The gentleman known as my father refused to speak to me the same time I told mom not to put him on the line when she offered. Then she told me perhaps I should wait for her to call instead of the other way 'round, and well, here we are." _Drop it, Case_, he begged. _You don't need my shit and I don't want to get into more detail then I already have._

Casey looked surprised. "I had no idea," he said wonderingly. "Granted, your parents were always a little...stiff, with the rest of the family, but dude, what happened between you and your dad? I don't remember anything big enough to make Ma and the grannies gossip over the dinner table."

Apparently a reprieve was not in his future. Sid sighed and shrugged. What Casey had just asked was something he'd asked himself many times before, before finally getting sick of trying to find an answer he didn't think existed. "Nothing really. He just never really wanted kids. He had his wife and his career and I was an unexpected surprise that showed up nine months after a celebration dinner with the company." It was odd, how those words could come out in such a neutral tone when the meaning itself could tie his stomach in knots.

"They looked for you at Grandma Cassie's funeral."

"More than likely, Mom was the only one actually hoping I'd show. Dad was probably hoping I'd stay gone." Sid chuckled darkly. "Good thing I didn't go. Might have given the old man a heart attack."

He blamed the evil little imp that appeared in his head, nodding its approval at his thoughts, on Casey for bringing up the subject in the first place.

Casey looked skeptically at him. "I can't believe you're taking this so lightly. You were ready to bite my head off a minute ago. Where's that arctic breeze now?"

_Flying down my spine._ "You caught me off guard, Case. And I really don't want to get into this right now. I'm leaving in a few hours, and you've got enough on your plate to deal with." Sid sighed and looked at his cousin somberly, willing him to understand. "It's fact of life Cuz. I ain't the first person to have a family member hate them. Granted, in our family, for a while, I had many people who hated me. I think I set a record!" He couldn't help but grin wryly, taking a perverse pleasure in achieving at least _something_." But at least joining a gang gave them a reason. Dad just didn't want me from the start." He shrugged again. "No biggie."

The knots in his stomach twisted a bit more. He never was good at lying to himself.

"Sid...Cuz..." Casey had a strange look on his face that Sid couldn't figure out.

"Drop it, man. I mean it – it ain't that big a deal. And I got you and Auntie Addie in my life again, something I didn't think would ever happen. Besides," Sid said, a tad ruefully. "You can't deny that I haven't given my dad enough reasons to not be proud of me."

"True that," Casey agreed with a small smile. "But you're changin' Sid. You helped me out big time last night with Ma, and you were at the hospital supporting her. I know that meant a lot to her."

Sid rolled his eyes at the younger man."I was there for you too Case," he pointed out mildly.

His cousin blinked at him. "What?"

Sid chuckled. Casey could be so dense sometimes, it was almost cute, in a dumb puppy dog way. All he needed was some floppy hears poking out of that shaggy mop of hair. "I mean, you dolt, that I'm here for you too. Your ma's not the only one whose gonna need someone to lean on, and since you're determined to keep Red in the dark, well, that just leaves me, don't it?" It was the least he could do.

Casey glared. "I ain't the one dyin' of cancer," he protested, and suddenly his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open in an 'o'. The color drained from Casey's face and Sid suddenly braced himself on the bike, swinging his legs over and landing on the grass beside Casey with a 'thump'. He reached out and gripped Casey's shoulder, looking him in the eyes.

"Casey?"

"I...I didn't..." Casey tried for a few seconds to say something and then gave up, just looking up at Sid for help, plainly asking him without words to help him figure out just what had happened.

_Eh?_ Sid was at a loss until he replayed Casey's last sentence in his head, and then his own eyes widened in surprise. "Shit...you finally said it." He had thought it would take more time then that.

Casey nodded, and then his head dropped. Sid didn't hear any tears – not that Jones men would cry in front of each other, of course – but he could see the tightening of Casey's shoulder muscles, the way he suddenly seemed to feel the need to dig his fingers into the earth and and rip at the grass, like he couldn't rip away the sickness taking his sole parent from him.

It was painful to watch. He never could tolerate seeing his little cousin in pain when they were kids. As Casey's self-appointed protector, Sid had gone to great lengths to ensure his little cousin was safe from harm, whether it be waving away hovering bees, squishing spiders, holding his hand while hopping the stones in the river, or hauling him up to sit with him on tree branches. Now, so many years later, seeing his little cousin as a grown man, a strong man, struggling to hold back the waves of grief Sid _knew_ had to be battering against him, Sid was almost convinced he could feel his own heart breaking in sympathy.

Sid silently swore a blue streak, debating with himself over what to do, and finally went with his gut instinct, squeezing his cousin's shoulder. A gentle reminder that he was still there, that he wasn't alone. Casey brought his own hand up to cover it, squeezing his fingers once and then dropping it again.

Sid sighed. "You know it's coming," he said quietly. The urge to help rose within him, and with only the faintest bit of reluctance, he called upon the very memories he was trying to avoid dealing with, to offer some sort of...empathy. "Christ, I wish it wasn't, but it is. And I know it hurts man, but trust me, admitting that it's real, shaking off that denial...it's a good thing. For you, if no one else." Speaking from experience, he knew only too well what continued denial could do to a person in the long run.

Casey didn't say anything for a minute, and then his head jerked up to look at Sid's. Blue eyes, welled up with tears he wouldn't, or couldn't, let fall, glared at him with such heat Sid was mildly surprised the moisture didn't just evaporate. "A good thing? How the fuck is saying my mother is dyin' a good thing for you to hear from me?"

"Because it means now you can start dealing with it," Sid said calmly. "I know all about living in denial – the longer you go, the worse it hurts when that reality is ripped out from under you. Better you realize it now before ya ever get to that point, kiddo. Believe me."

He dropped his head again. Casey's hands were fisted in his lap, tensed as though he was about to throw a punch, and for a second Sid thought he might. Considering the stress he was under and the fact that Sid had confessed his (albeit reluctant) allegiance to the Dragons within the last few days and he hadn't gotten popped one, he figured a belt in the jaw was probably a little overdue. He rather fervently hoped he could avoid that particular scenario – his little cousin wasn't exactly_ little_ anymore...

Then Casey's hands relaxed and he spoke quietly, almost wistfully. "Does it ever get better?"

Now, _there_ was a loaded question. Sid thought about the particular trials in his own life. He couldn't exactly say that they were healed, not with the mental trauma he was currently being forced to endure, but despite the punch they packed, he knew they were nowhere near as painful as they had been,

For better for for worse, his trials had shaped him, made him who he was. The person he'd become as a result, wasn't exactly someone to be proud of, and his initial, knee-jerk response was to try and candy-coat it. He didn't want his cousin turning out like him.

Except he doubted that could ever happen. Whatever trials were ahead of Casey, he would face them with more dignity and inner strength then Sid had. Casey had already faced a lot in his life, and somehow, he'd managed to retain that spark inside of him that made him strive to be a good person.

Uncle Dave was responsible for that. Not for the first time in his life, Sid wondered what he would have turned out like, if his own father had been like his uncle. Maybe so many years wouldn't have been wasted.

Sid blinked, and realized Casey was still waiting, and he tried to answer as best he could. "Time makes everything better, Cuz. Pain like this, it never goes away, ya know? But eventually it gets easier to deal with." At least he spoke the truth. Casey needed to hear that.

And Sid was honestly glad Casey came to his own realization so soon. If Sid had cottoned on to his father's true feelings before he had, maybe the shock of hearing Andrew Jones drunkenly complain to his wife about how much simpler life would have been had they remembered to use a condom on the night of his conception would have been easier to accept.

_Not that I'm bitter or anything_. He snorted. He was still better off then a lot of people. At least he still had someone in his family who cared, and was willing to give him a second chance after he'd left home to 'steal' his fortune.

It was still something of a shock to think of the changes one year could bring. This same time a year ago, he never would have believed he'd be back on the old farmhouse as a welcomed guest, rather than a potential thief.

He was really rather fortunate, when he thought about it. He didn't need to dwell on the bad issues, not when he had a great deal to currently be thankful for. That sudden realization made it a little easier to put the worst of his memories back under mental lock and key for the time being.

Casey was suddenly peering up at him again, and his eyes were like little blue lasers, pinning Sid into place. "Is that what you meant about you and your dad? About him not--"

"Case, deal with your issues first, before you try to take on mine, okay?" Sid rolled his eyes. Just because he was mostly okay with his situation for the time being, didn't mean Casey would be as accepting. His baby cousin had always had a hero complex. It was no wonder he had become the vigilante. Now that he knew about it, he couldn't picture anyone else wearing that mask. "I swear to God, kid. Freakin' do-gooders like you always bleed out because they're too busy patching up the world to save themselves."

Casey shrugged. "When we was growin' up, there was a time when you _were_ my world Sid. You got no idea how much I idolized you when I was younger."

While he could remember Casey following him around like a little lost puppy, those exact words had never been spoken before. They felt really good in his ears, like they were soothing a hurt he couldn't see. A small smile crossed over Sid's face. "Really?"

"Yeah. Really." Casey matched the smile on Sid's face with his own. "I'm glad you're here Sid."

Sid felt a real smile appear on his face, and he leaned over, ruffling his cousin's hair fondly. "Me too, Case-man. Me too."

**o0o...o0o**

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Sid generally adored the fact that his roomie was as punctual as an atomic clock, but as three o'clock drew nearer, he found himself wishing she'd get stuck in a traffic jam or something. He and Casey had spent the entire day reminiscing about the past, keeping the topics light and jokes perverted. Typical guy stuff, he decided. Complete with mechanical do-hickeys for the ultimate in male bonding experiences. The tractor had been child's play, and fixing the boiler was turning out to be very, very boring, since Casey wouldn't let him experiment.

He pouted, but he couldn't help the small smile that kept creeping on his face when he least expected it.

Despite Casey's selfish hogging of the toolbox, he was having a great time, regardless of the reason he was even there to begin with. Lunch had been even better then breakfast – Auntie Addie had sent the two of them outside with frozen hamburger patties and an order to get the barbecue up and running.

Sid licked his lips in remembrance. Nothing said loving like crisp lettuce, onions, pickles, cheese, ketchup, mustard and one heck of a slab of beef on huge, kaiser buns. His aunt had even made her famous potato salad, and had dug out the old deep-fryer for french fries. A true, calorie-laden, heart-attack inducing lunch. It had been exquisite. A feast for a king.

He wondered idly if Cal would be averse to staying for dinner. He knew Casey was itchin' for another go at the grill.

The familiar sound of a Neon's chugging engine made his ears pick up. _Well, so much for the traffic jam_. Letting out an aggrieved sigh, he shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched towards the door.

Still attempting to breathe life into the furnace, Casey looked up at him. "Gee, I thought you liked your roommate."

Sid smiled. "I do. I was just hoping she'd be late," he confessed. He shrugged, one hand coming up to rub the back of his head in mild embarrassment – he could feel the familiar heat of a faint blush rising. "I, uh...well, 'm having a better time then I thought I would, ya know?" He blinked rapidly. "That doesn't mean I thought it would suck or nothing, but--" he stopped, registering the look on his cousin's face, and with a pout, he aimed a finger in Casey's direction. "You're laughing at me."

Casey nodded at him. "Yes. Yes I am."

"Shut up." Sid scowled and threw one of the towels they'd been using to clean up at him. He was happy to see it strike his cousin's face, settling greasey-side down. "I'm gonna make sure Auntie Addie doesn't scare Cal away, and to make sure Cal behaves. You can come say hello, if you're feeling civil for some reason."

On that note, he whirled around and stomped up the back stairs. He could hear Casey snickering, and he let out one of his own. He still couldn't get over just how relaxed he felt, having his family back.

_Speaking of family_...he picked up speed and launched himself out the cellar door, just in time to see a familiar black Neon pull into the driveway, windows rolled down. "Yo, Calico!" The door opened, and he watched his long-time friend and roommate step out.

She was tall, almost as tall as he was, which meant she was nearly Casey's height too. She was dressed simply, as she usually was, in straight leg blue jeans and wearing a faded black and red t-shirt Sid recognized as his. Her windbreaker was plain black with white trim, and since it obviously wasn't that hot out, she left it open, and huge, gray sneakers with ripped sides graced her feet. Cal was a girl who dressed to be comfortable at all times, and Sid couldn't remember the last time he saw her all gussied up. As he recalled, even her own grandmother's funeral a few years ago had only merited black denim as opposed to blue.

Therefore it made sense that in coming to meet the members of his estranged family, she wouldn't change her routine. It was oddly comforting.

Cal had a round, perpetually grinning face and hazel-colored eyes. Sid knew she wasn't what people would consider classically beautiful – hell, Cal herself said it all the time – but when she gave that full grin of hers, it lit up her entire face. It was her smile that had originally attracted her Dragon boyfriend, which was ironic because it had been him that had made it go away. It was only after he had been arrested, that Cal's smile – her _real_ smile - had made its return.

Sid watched his friend stride over to him, her arms up for hugs, and he gave in to the urge to run and meet her halfway. It had only been two days, but he missed her.

"Hey Sid!"

"Cally-girl!" He cheered, wrapping his arms around her. "A sight for sore eyes!" He gave her another squeeze and then stepped back, putting his hands on her shoulders and leveling a mild glare at her. "You could have been late you know."

She cocked her head to the side. "I'm sure I could have been. Why?" Then her eyes widened slightly, and her lips curled upward again. "You mean, you – Mr Worrywart – are having a good time?"

Sid pouted. She knew how nervous he had been. He deserved sympathy and cuddles, not teasing. He glared. Damn those non-traffic jams.

"Awww, poor baby," Cal chuckled. She patted him on the head, and Sid mock-hissed at her. "Who would have thought people could actually tolerate having you around this long without resorting to bodily harm?"

"Not that we weren't tempted!"

Sid turned his head with Cal's to see Casey emerging from the basement, watching them with apparent amusement. "Oh great," Sid groused,but his lip betrayed him by twitching slightly. "Now I have two of you to make fun of me."

"Teasing in stereo," Cal nodded, smiling. "This works. Hi – I'm Cal," she added, holding her hand out for Casey to shake.

He shook it firmly. "I'm Casey. Nice to meet you, Cal." He jerked his head at Sid. "Sid said you were coming to pick him up. Would you like to stay for dinner? He hasn't said anything but I know he's just dying to have his chance with the barbecue."

_Yay!_ It was like Casey read his mind. Sid beamed. "Now, that's a lovely idea!" He wrapped an arm around Cal before she could protest, and another one around Casey, and began herding them towards the house, away from the car. It probably wasn't a good idea to keep them so close together – alone, they had ammunition against him, together they had a freaking _battalion_ – but he was hungry. He could almost taste the sausages that would be cooking as soon as he got everyone to work.

Suddenly a shape appeared in the doorway and Sid's heart leaped into his throat – he'd momentarily forgotten the ancient tradition every single individual had to pass, in coming to the farmhouse. It was inevitable. Inescapable.

He still had to introduce Cal to Auntie Addie.

Sid shot a look at Casey who grinned evilly, and Sid remembered belatedly that April had passed his aunt's inspection already. Now it was his turn.

_Oh my God._...He wondered if it was too late to throw Cal back in the car and gun the engines.

He looked back at his aunt and saw her eyes gleaming malevolently behind her glasses. Yes. Much too late.

"Auntie Addie? This is Cal..."

**o0o...o0o**

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I know, I know, the guys weren't in this bit. But they will be next chapter – I swear! In the next chapter, one of the guys actually gets an accidental close encounter with Addie, setting a huge chain of events in motion The action will pick up a wee bit too – you'll see what I mean.

Sorry for this chapter taking so long. It was actually fairly hard for me to write – I couldn't quite muster up the enthusiasm for it. It's a necessary filler but I keep finding myself wandering away to write action snippets for the next couple chapters. Not to mention, this chapter gave me nothing but trouble – special thanks to **Red Rebel** who helped me fix Sid's POV in a few places.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** One Hand Clapping 

**Author:** Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)

**Word Count for chapter 8**: 5782 (approx 12 OpenOffice pages)

**Rating: **Overall PG13 for language

**Pairing: **Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad

**Summary:** **_Book 1_**. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed.

**Notes: **

Sorry for the long delay! I got caught up in a few other fandoms, and then was just too busy as the end of the semester wound down. Today, I was determined to get the next chapter completed, even though it is a bit shorter than the others. Special thanks to **theTech** and **Red Rebel **for going over this for me. I went back and made a few changes and additions, so once again, any errors found are all mine.

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"Callie seems like a nice girl," Adelina commented mildly the next morning.

Casey glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "I think you scared her away," he said. "The bit about wanting twenty gallons of water from the well up the road was a little over the top, don't you think?"

His mother shrugged, setting a few more dirty dishes in the sink . "I already did the potato and apple peeling thing with _your_ girl, kiddo. I do try to be unique whenever possible."

"No argument there." Casey dried a plate and set it to the side. His cousin and his roommate had left earlier that morning, just before lunch. Cal had claimed Sid owed her a lunch that actually cost money due to a lost bet, which prevented them from staying for lunch at the house. "At least she took it well, ya know?"

The 'tests' that Adelina typically put all of Casey's potential girlfriends through, had actually been rather tame this time around. Casey assumed it was because Sid wasn't her flesh-and-blood son, and despite his teasing and Adelina's pointed remarks, it had been clear that if a romance was budding between Sid and Cal, it was in the very early stages. They had joked around more like siblings than an emerging couple.

That hadn't prevented Adelina from throwing _something_ at her to test her mettle. Callie had risen to Adelina's challenges with a grin and a laugh that immediately garnered the respect of them all. All in all, Casey hoped that there was something growing there. Cal seemed like a good choice to keep Sid under control, and he'd rather see her on Sid's arm than Nurse Bianca.

"So when do I get to meet your turtle pals?" Adelina asked randomly.

Casey nearly dropped the cup he was drying. "Ma?"

Adelina calmly soaped up another plate, scrubbing at the remaining traces of breakfast. She arched a brow at him. "You heard me."

Casey blinked and then shrugged. "I...dunno. I mean, you sure you're up to it?" He chuckled wryly. "They can be a lot to handle. I mean, hell, Raph's like me, and Mikey's like a five year old hyped up on sugar bombs." He wrinkled his nose. "If it was just Leo and Donnie, or Master Splinter--" he trailed off as he noticed the glare his mother was aiming at him.

"I do hope you're not suggesting that I'm not strong enough to meet my son's friends," she said coolly. She rinsed off the plate and stuck it on the rack before turning off the water.

Casey frowned. "Ma, you were sick again this morning, and last night. I just don't wanna tire you out or nothin'."

"I'm fine. I didn't keel over when I caught them on your phone, did I?"

"It's a Shell Cell. And seeing them for a sec on the phone is a lot different from seeing them in person."

Adelina slammed one palm against the counter top and threw her dishcloth against the faucets with the other, leveling an angry look at him. "I may be dying, but I'm not dead yet, Arnold." Whirling around, she stormed out of the kitchen.

Casey bit back a frustrated growl and braced his hands against the sink, lowering his head. That was not what he wanted, especially not after the morning had been going so well. After a minute, he took a deep breath, draped the damp towel over the drawer handle, and followed his mother out to the living room.

She was standing in front of the window with her arms folded, glaring outside at the bright morning sunlight. With her back straight, her head up, her jaw tightened, she looked like she was a soldier, preparing to go off to war. _And maybe_, Casey thought resignedly, _she is_. Casey shuffled into the living room, hands in his pockets, eying her warily. "Ma?"

She exhaled noisily through her mouth. "Arnold."

Casey took another step forward and his foot hit a pile of papers. Glancing down, he saw it was the brochures and pamphlets from the office. The outburst in the kitchen made it clear his mother was not oblivious to her mortality. Maybe it was time for that discussion they'd been needing to have. "Look...I didn't mean you were weak or something."

A muscle twitched in her cheek but she still didn't turn around.

Casey frowned and suddenly felt impatient. "Ma, come on! I know how tough you are but damn it, you're sick! Meeting my friends isn't about meeting my friends – it's about proving you can handle the excitement and have the energy you'd need to put up with a house fulla guests." He kicked at the papers, sending them flying. "You don't want to face this – I get that. I do. But for gods sakes, stop pretending it isn't happening!"

"I'm not!"

"Well, ya sure ain't been reading those papers like the Doc wanted you to," Casey said, gesturing to the stack on the floor. "An' you don't listen to me or Sid or anyone when we ask you to take it easy. Sure looks like you're pretending to me."

Her head whipped around. "How can I do that?" she snapped back. "How can I pretend it isn't happening? I'm throwing up all the time, my own son has to treat me like an infant 'cause I can't clean up after myself – and now you think I can't even handle a few house guests? Why don't you just bury me now and get it over with?"

Casey closed his eyes, at the painful image those words conjured up. "That ain't what I'm saying, Ma. I just mean, the guys tend to attract trouble where ever they go. Part of the reason I love hanging out with 'em, but you don't need--"

"Stop telling me what I need!" Adelina whirled around completely, leveling a finger at her son. "I am the parent in this relationship, Arnold. You don't give me orders."

"I ain't trying to give you orders--"

"I can handle them, I can handle this--" The finger aimed in his direction was shaking. Just a little bit, a mere waver, but it was more then enough.

"No, ma." Casey interrupted her softly, watching the shaking grow stronger, finally seeing her anger for what it truly was. She wasn't angry at him for trying to protect her. She was angry at herself for feeling something she'd been training herself to ignore for years: fear. His eyes raised back up, meeting hers squarely. "You can't."

Adelina's hand shook even harder, the trembling spreading up her arm, her eyes taking on a glassy sheen. "I'm strong enough to beat—handle this."

"Handle it? Yeah. No doubt." Casey swallowed hard, remembering Sid's words from the other day. About shaking off that denial. How it would be better in the long run. Steeling himself, Casey met his mother's gaze firmly, calmly. It was time to rip off that band-aid. "But you can't beat it, Ma. You _won't_ beat it. And you need to understand that."

Adelina's mouth opened and then closed again. She stood there, breathing heavily, heavy tremors slowly working their way through her slight frame. Her hand dropped, and she wrapped her arms around herself, as though trying to hold herself together, when every bit of her must have been trying to fly apart. Her eyes squeezed shut, and Casey watched in grim fascination as a thick tear suddenly broke free and ran down her cheek.

**o0o...o0o**

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**o0o...o0o**

Addie squeezed her hands tightly around her biceps, digging her nails in. Her chest hurt – not the familiar muscular aches from vomiting and dry-heaving day and night, but a deep, inner ache that spread through her entire body, making her throat tighten and her heart pound.

_You can't beat it. You won't beat it. You can't beat it._

Casey's words echoed in her ears, running around in little in circles in her mind, and she wanted to rise up like a glowering avenger, bash those little thoughts into oblivion, rip them to shreds and scatter them so far apart she'd never feel them again. Each word beat against her heavily, painfully, and suddenly she came aware of herself, shaking her head madly, as though denying the truth, refusing to let it in.

Casey was still staring at her when she finally opened her eyes, and she realized faintly that his blurry outline was caused by tears, and that discovery caused a surge of anger to rush forth. How _dare_ he? How dare he say what she could or couldn't do? And how dare he imply that she wasn't strong enough to beat anything life had to throw at her? She was strong! She always had been! She always would be!

Blind rage settled over, chasing away the unfamiliar tang of fear, and she relished its presence, comfortable with the feeling of anger. Her tears dried up, as though evaporating under the intense heat of her emotions, and she glared at her son.

"I can handle this," she hissed. Her hands released their death grip on her arms, and she clenched her fists – ready to beat down that invisible opponent that dared to threaten her. "I don't need you telling me what I am capable of. I don't need you telling me what I can't do. I am not a child."

Her son was shaking his head slowly. "Ma, you can't do this alone." He faced her down, sure in his belief, something she could see easily, and normally would have been proud of – had it not been aimed at her. "You need to accept this."

His tone was not mocking, but the implication that he knew more about her then she did infuriated her. Fresh rage spilled over, an inferno of heated words exploding from her. "Don't tell me what I can and can't accept!" She took a step forward, fingers flexing in and out of fists. "I've been dealing with the harsh side of life since before you were even _born_, Arnold Casey Jones!" She smirked at him – cold, hard. "Are you ashamed of me? Of your poor, weak, sick, old mother? Don't want to babysit me in front of your little friends?" She raised an eyebrow, feeling the power flow through her, the power she felt at being able to turn the fight around, make it a battle she could win. "Or are you ashamed of them? Don't want me to see them up close? Ogle the oddities? Watch the overgrown frea--"

"**Stop**." Casey's voice was quiet, but hard enough to cut diamonds. "I know what you're trying to do. You're not gonna make me the bad guy here. You hate bein' afraid so you get angry. You _raised_ me, Ma – you think I don't recognize what you're doing?"

She fumed silently, fists tightening even further. A very faint twinge of guilt stabbed her somewhere, but she shoved it aside, not ready to give up the battle.

"It ain't about me or my friends – it's about you. No, I don't really want them here. Know why?" Casey's eyes were bright, hazy with unshed tears of anguish and frustration. "Because if they come here, you'll be running around, cleaning, cooking, driving yourself to prove to them that there's nothing wrong with you. You'll work yourself into exhaustion to keep up the illusion, 'cause I know you Ma, and I know you can't let anyone see you being weak." He took a step towards her, and Adelina cocked her head. "This ain't being weak – this is you being sick! This is you sufferin' a fatal disease that's killin' ya – and this is you pretending it will all go away if you're strong enough." He looked her straight in the eyes, and she could see the pain lying within, the truth he didn't want to admit, but was confronting all the same. "It won't go away. And you – we – can't ignore it anymore."

Adelina rocked back as though he'd struck her. She opened her mouth to deny his accusations – and found that she couldn't. Her own memory turned against her, conjuring up images of her in the bathroom, sobbing under the gentle spray, watching evidence of sickness washing down the drain, realizing she was dying and that there was nothing she could do about it. Her son hadn't witnessed her own little breakdown – he had no idea that her own illusions were being stripped away, just as his had.

Her own mind betraying her, Adelina felt the cold rush of fear creeping up on her again and in desperation, she lashed out. "Can't win, won't live – that's all I'm hearing from you." Her eyes flashed. "Are you so eager to see me die?"

This time Casey was the one who flinched, his eyes widening to an impossible size, jaw dropping. Adelina's own mouth snapped shut, and she mentally backpedaled, the faint guilt twinge from earlier reappearing and twisting, realizing she'd gone one step too far. Her fists loosened, one hand flying to her face, covering her mouth in shock at her own words. The look on Casey's face was devastating, and she was the one who put it there.

Her son didn't want her dead. She knew that. She knew he had a point about having his friends up, knew he was only trying to protect her. There was absolutely no basis for her to say the things she'd said.

She could feel her face start to crumple, her mouth twisting, and she automatically reached out to her son.

"Casey..."

Casey held up his hand, still staring at her, stark hurt completely visible in his blue eyes, and she stopped, watching as her son turned around and walked out of the room, every step perfectly even and calm. Adelina pressed her fist against her mouth, feeling her tears welling up and finally, _finally_, spilling down her face. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, watching the door and silently willing her son to come back.

A minute later he returned, his keys in hand. He walked steadily past her, not looking in her direction even once, before pausing at the door.

"I'm going out, before we start saying things we can't take back." He hesitated and his eyes flicked towards the pile of papers he'd knocked over. "Do me – and yourself - a favor. Read those." He paused. "Please."

Adelina nodded, even though her son wasn't looking at her. She swallowed, her mouth dry, and rasped out, "Where are you going?"

Finally, he turned her way, his eyes blank, his face a mask of indifference. "Away."

_From you_, she heard the unspoken words, and a new wave of tears streamed down her face. At the sight of them, his face softened slightly, and he managed a small wave before twisting the knob and shoving the door open. He didn't slam it closed however, letting it drift shut behind him. Adelina heard the sound of his car start up, the engine he kept so lovingly tuned revving, and then the sound of gravel spraying as he wheeled his car around and sped down the driveway.

When she could no longer hear his car in the distance, Adelina broke down and sobbed as though her heart was breaking.

**o0o...o0o**

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"This time you're going down, Mikey!" Raph growled, lunging at his brother. Michelangelo snickered and danced out of his way, planting a hand on Raph's head and vaulting over him, tapping his shell with his 'chucks.

"Point!" Splinter called, acknowledging the tag. Raphael swore.

"Sorry bro – you're just too slow!" Mikey cartwheeled out of the way of another flurry of fists, and then leaped backwards, flipping in midair and giving himself some distance from his irate brother. "I got me some skills, dude. Better quit while you're ahead!"

"Do you ever shut up?" Raph panted. Spinning his sai's, he sent one flying at his younger brother. Mikey's nunchakus whirled and deflected the incoming weapon to the practice dummy, where it lodged neatly in the center of its head. But the second it took to defend himself from the blades was all Raph needed to launch himself at the younger mutant, grabbing his wrists and forcing Mikey to drop his own weapons. They grappled together for a minute, twisting and turning, each trying to gain the upper hand and therefore, the leverage needed to overwhelm the other. Mike managed to spin himself around, gripping Raph's arm and flinging him over his shoulder, slamming his older brother into the mat.

"Point!"

"Give up?" Mikey crouched next to his hotheaded brother, poking him on the beak. Raph snarled and reached up with the lightening speed, grabbing Mikey's head and rolling over, bringing his brother with him, hard into the ground. Mike's shell hit the ground, eliciting an 'oof' of pain from the orange-banded turtle. Raph let his arms drop and they lay there side by side.

"Never," Raph gasped out. Mikey let out a pained chuckle.

"Time!" Splinter called out. Mikey flipped to his feet, turned and held out a hand to his brother. Raph eyed it for a minute and then shrugged, letting himself be pulled to his feet. But instead of letting go, he pulled Mikey towards him, pushing his head down and rubbing his knuckles across his baby brother's scalp. Hard.

"Yeow!" Mikey yelped, struggling to escape, arms flailing wildly.

Raphael smirked and released him, letting him drop to the floor. "That's for thinking I'd _ever_ give up in a fight – 'specially 'gainst _you_."

Mikey stuck out his tongue, getting to his feet. Splinter coughed, and they immediately turned to their Master, who stood there waiting for them, and they bowed. "You did well, both of you. Raphael, you still must work on controlling yourself in battle. Too often you give in to the rush of anger inside, and that leaves you vulnerable to attacks."

Raphael nodded. "Yeah, I know. Gotcha, Sensei."

Splinter then turned his gaze on Michelangelo. "As for you, my son, you had a clear victory – until you became overconfident and gave your brother an opening. Do not become lax in battle until you are certain it is over."

Mikey nodded. "Okay, Sensei."

Raph snorted and turned away as they were dismissed. Practice hadn't gone quite the way he'd wanted it too. He blamed his tie with Mikey on the fact that he was still wondering what the heck Casey was up to. First he was acting all weird, then his mother found out about them, and now they were being given the brush off again. Raph let his eyes wander around the main room of the lair, his gaze settling on Leo hacking away at the air with his swords. His older brother was getting jumpy too, not liking the fact that yet another human knew about them, while they had yet to determine if she was a threat to their existence or not.

Raphael honestly didn't think she was a threat. She was Casey's mother for gods sakes – who the hell knew what kind of weirdness she'd already dealt with in life, having Casey as her kid? The fact that she didn't immediately get on the horn to the local news media last year when she saw Leo and Splinter – and again, when she discovered Casey's Shell Cell – spoke volumes about her. Raph chuckled. Mikey was itching to meet her, having a fascination with all things 'mother'. He wanted to see what she was like, how similar she was to Casey. Casey had had to do some pretty fast-talking to keep the playful mutant from driving up there that very minute.

His stomach rumbled and Raph glanced at the DVD player to see the time. He was startled to note it was almost seven thirty. "Uh guys, we doin' anything for dinner? It's getting' late."

Mikey's head shot up at the magic word 'dinner' and he bounded over like an over-active puppy, tugging at Raph's arm. "Pizza run! C'mon Raph, time's a-wasting!" He abruptly let go of Raphael and sped off into his room, emerging a minute later in his street clothes, complete with ball cap tugged down low.

Raph snickered and headed to get his own gear, pausing to call out to their brothers. "Leo, Donnie – last call for requests!"

"Hawaiian for me," Leonardo said calmly, not missing a beat in his routine. His swords flashed in the light as he rolled to the side and flipped up, slicing through an invisible opponent.

Raph nodded; he'd figured as much. "Don?"

"A Classic, please," Donatello called from his work station. He didn't even bother to look up from whatever it was he was tinkering with. Raph waved in acknowledgment and threw on his topside gear. They didn't often wear clothing, but it wasn't quite dark enough to mask their features at the take-out window, and it was still early enough for crowds. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Though he'd die before he ever said that in front of his brothers.

Mikey was fairly dancing with impatience. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!' he chanted all the way into the lift that took them topside. Raphael ignored his chants and drop kicked him away from the driver's side door of the Battle Shell. He may have to put up with Mikey on a pizza run, but there was no way in Hell he was letting the little maniac drive.

Traffic was light for a change, and their route to their regular pizza place was uninterrupted. Raph drove around to the take out window and paid the girl who raised an eyebrow at the odd combination of fedora, sunglasses and high-collared jacket that obscured most of his face, but didn't say anything. They were halfway back to the empty warehouse that sat in top of their lair and served as a garage, when Raph noticed something out of the upper corner of his eye. Pulling over on a side street, he stuck his head out the window and saw a familiar-looking shape bound over the rooftop and disappear.

_Casey?_

"Mikey, take the pizzas back," he said briskly, stripping quickly out of his clothing and tossing it in the back. He jumped out of the Battle Shell, letting Mikey slide over to the driver's side.

"What's up, bro?" Mikey asked, scanning the rooftops for a glimpse at whatever had attracted Raphael's attention.

"I thought I saw something," Raph said, He shut the door. "It's probably nothing."

"I'll come with you--"

"What, you think I need a babysitter?" Raph reached through the open window and gave his brother a light whack on the back of his head. "I got my Shell Cell – I'll call if I need backup."

"Raph..." Mikey was hesitant, glancing from him to the rooftops and back. Raph rolled his eyes.

"Look, I think I saw Casey." He pointed with his sai at the last spot he thought he saw the vigilante at. "I'm gonna go see if it's him. If it is, you know I ain't gonna get nothin' out of him with an audience, 'kay?"

Mikey nodded in understanding. "Sure, bro."

Raph nodded. "Good." With that, he turned and dashed across the street, leaping to the second floor fire escape, then the third and the fourth. From there he did a final leap, over the ledge, landing on the roof as silently and surefooted as a cat. Behind him, he could hear the growl of the Battle Shell engine as it started up again, and he relaxed, knowing Mikey was on his way back home.

Then he ran forward, following his battle-brother's trail into the night.

**o0o...o0o**

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**o0o...o0o**

Casey had driven for hours without an actual goal in mind. He had driven on and on, down the busy highway, swerving in and out among other Sunday drivers, his mind focused on getting ahead of the next car. It reminded him of the game he and his friends used to play soon after they had gotten their driver's licenses. You picked a car in the distance and your goal was to pass it as quickly as possible, using the minimum number of lane changes specified. If traffic was light, the game was simple enough. It was when traffic was heavy that the challenge became apparent – especially when you had a sadistic best friend who would look at the gridlock, smile, point at a car fifty feet up and say, 'Okay Case – you got five minutes and at least four lane changes.'

He drove until he noticed his tank running on empty and he pulled over at a truck stop for a refill. While standing there, waiting for his car to fill up, he took stock of his surroundings, realizing that in all his lane changing and ramp-taking, he was heading in the general direction of New York City. If he started now, he'd be in his apartment by dinnertime.

Alternatively, if he started now, he'd be back at the farmhouse by dinnertime too. Provided he went straight there without the games this time.

Casey turned off the pump, screwed the cap back on and used his credit card to pay. Then he pulled out of the slot to let the next guy in, and pulled off to the side, just before the road that led back to the highway. He got out again and headed into the restaurant attached to the gas station. He bought two bottles of water, a bag of dill pickle-flavored Doritos and a pack of gum, and then stood at his car again, bracing his forearms against the roof, just watching the traffic go by.

That had been probably the worst blow out he and his mother had ever had. Casey thought about the look on her face, the anger she'd directed his way, and shuddered. Tearing open the bag of chips, he popped one in his mouth, sucking on it to get the most of the flavor and then twisted open the bottle of water to chase it down.

He didn't want to go back. Not yet anyway. He and his mother could both stand to use a little time apart – Casey had said his piece, and he knew some of it had to have sunk in to his mother by now. Besides, that little parting jab she'd gotten in still stung.

He knew his mother. All to well. He knew she was probably kicking herself for saying it the second it left her mouth, but the fact remained that she still said it. Casey didn't want his mother to die. He wasn't some kinda vulture hanging around, waiting for her to kick off. He knew that _she _knew that. But it still hurt. Even though she'd said it in anger, as a way of deflecting the fear, it still felt like a sharp slap across the face. He tossed a handful of chips in his mouth, crunching down hard.

If he hadn't left, Casey was afraid he would have lost his temper. It was supremely, extremely rare that he would ever do so in his mother's presence – it was unheard of for him to do it at _her_. He didn't want to set the precedent, so he left.

Casey finished off the bag of chips and the rest of his water before tossing both in the garbage can on the roadside. He chucked the second bottle of water at the passenger seat and got back in the car, aiming it in the direction of the city. A trip back home, a change of clothes, a shower, maybe some skull-bashing – all of it would put him in a better mood for dealing with the twist in his mother's mood. And he could grab some photos of the guys, give her a better look at them, ease the shock seeing them in person would bring.

He set his jaw resolutely. His mother wanted to meet them? Fine, she would. But it would be on _his_ terms. Casey wasn't about to risk her health, even if she had no qualms about doing so.

**o0o0o**

The drive back to the city went by quickly, and in no time at all he was back in his apartment. It was funny, but just setting foot over the door made him relax, lose some of the tension he'd been carrying since that morning. His apartment was old, dilapidated, messy as all get out, but it was quiet and it was his. He could easily afford a better one, and in a nicer area, but that defeated his purpose of being right in the thick of the most troubled areas of town. His neighbours didn't bother him, and his landlady kept her nose out of his business, and so he was happy with it. Grabbing a change of clothes from the dresser, he decided to bypass the shower, setting them on the counter instead. The sun was already setting, even though it was still early. Another ten minutes and it'd be dark enough to hit the rooftops, with enough street light to see any Dragon activity. If he found anything, he'd need the shower more when he got back.

His bag of clubs and bats were right where he'd left them, and he was glad the duffel bag with his mask was still in his trunk. Gathering his stuff together, he headed for his back window, slipping out to the fire escape and then leaping up to the roof. His bag secure behind his back, his mask on his head, ready to pull down at the sight of any Dragons, Casey sped off over the rooftops.

He was surprised how much he was starting to enjoy this mode of transportation. Usually he preferred to patrol by motorbike, but pairing up with Raph meant hitting the tops of buildings more often then not. As a result, he found his stamina greatly increasing, and his gymnastic ability, something he'd always been proud of, improving by leaps and bounds, literally as well as figuratively. Besides, he'd had enough of driving for the day. He needed some physical activity to burn off the last of the tension he could still feel in his neck and shoulders, and he kept an eager eye out for any activity.

**o0o0o**

It took nearly an hour before he heard something – the tell-tale tinkling sounds of glass breaking. Jogging lightly across the roof of a brownstone building, he peered over the ledge to see the familiar purple tattoos scattered over the various members of the Purple Dragon Gang as they began loading their truck with TV's and DVD players. Casey blinked, wondering why no alarms were going off, until he saw one of the Dragons – Sonny, he recognized – using some kind of remote that was emitting an energy wave over the front of the store. Frequency cancellator, Casey realized. Don had mentioned those things before – how they blocked all frequencies from registering or something. Basically, all alarms, all frequency waves, everything – was temporarily turned off. The store was as good as dead in the water as long as the box was on.

Casey grinned and hefted his bat. Reaching with one hand to pull his mask down, he let out a whoop and leaped down at them.

One of the Dragons – Two Ton – looked up at his cry, just in time to take a smack to the head with the bat. He dropped like a felled tree, and the other Dragons turned as one to face the threat. Casey didn't pause; after dropping Two Ton, he kept moving, striking another Dragon in the arm with a satisfying crack, before driving the handle into the stomach of a third. The Dragon whose arm he broke, let out an agonized howl and fell back, letting his partners take his place.

Casey was surprised to see how many there were – apparently about five more were hidden in the truck, stocking the stolen goods, which made nine total. Well – seven. Two Ton and the punk with the pulped arm weren't going to be giving him much trouble. The one he'd hit in the back was back on his feet, advancing with a savage growl and a chain in his hand. He swung it out, and Casey let it wrap around his bat before yanking it out of the kid's hand and smashing his fist into his face instead. The kid hit the ground hard and then there were six.

Casey felt the last of the tension melt away as he leaped into the fray, losing himself in the battle. His bat cracked in half when he missed a Dragon skull and hit the brick wall of the store instead, and he tossed it away, reaching back in his bag for his favorite club. He pulled it out just in time to block a downward strike from Sonny, who had set his device down and joined the battle, wielding a vicious-looking knife about ten inches long.

"I'll teach you to mess with the Dragons, vigilante!' he spat at Casey, swiping at him with the other hand which held a dagger, smaller, but no less deadly. Casey jumped back just in time to avoid having his guts spilled over the pavement, backing into another Dragon who looked like he could rival Two Ton in stature. Tree trunk-sized arms wrapped around him, squeezing the breath out of him, and Sonny moved forward to help, rearing back with one hand to drive his fist into Casey's mask.

With a burst of effort, Casey struck out with his feet, catching Sonny in the stomach, doubling him over. The arms tightened and he let out a choked gasp, trying in vain to breathe. It didn't work. Casey struggled harder, and then smashed his head backwards, catching the Dragon in nose. The giant let out a shriek of pain as his nose exploded, automatically releasing his grip on Casey to grasp at his face, heedless of the blood gushing down over his chin. Casey fell to one knee, sucking in great gulps of air, spots dancing in front of his eyes, and never saw the other Dragon members regrouping behind him.

There was movement in the corner of his eye and he thought he saw a flash of green before something hard struck him in the temple, sending him spiraling into unconsciousness.

His last thought was that his mother was going to be so pissed off at him.

**o0o...o0o**

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End Notes:

This was far easier to write than the last chapter was. :) Here's hoping the next one won't take as long. Also, I may be in need of an additional beta reader, so if anyone is interested (experience preferred), please let me know.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** One Hand Clapping 

**Author:** Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)

**Word Count for chapter 9**: 6016

**Rating: **Overall PG13 for language

**Pairing: **Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad

**Summary:** **_Book 1_**. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed. **_Chapter 9_** - Casey hashes things out with his best friend, and his (hopefully) girlfriend.

**Notes: **

Yes, it's been a while. I've been off playing in other fandoms, most notably being the Prince of Tennis. But I also just saw TMNT 4 in Shanghai last week, and it kick-started my TMNT engines again. This chapter is unbeta'd. Mild **warning** of mushiness (of the April/Casey variety) and language.

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**o0o...o0o**

Someone was viciously pounding the side of his head with a sledgehammer, and when Casey got his hands on him, he was going to make the punk eat the head before ramming the shaft into the first orifice he saw.

"Owww..." The moan escaped him before he could suck it up, and Casey cracked open his eyes. Light overhead shone straight down on him and he let out another pained garble, slamming his lids shut. A rough chuckle sounded off nearby and through the hazy red of his closed lids, he could sense the light going dim. He tried again, opening his eyes to the merest of slits, and he saw a hazy, blurry figure lean over him. "...the Hell?"

"You got yourself cold-cocked by a Dragon runt," the blurry figure said, and Casey didn't need his normally perfect vision to know there was a smirk involved. He brought up his arm, still shaky, and planted his hand over his face, pressing his fingers into his temples, rubbing the palm into his cheekbone. After a minute, he slid his hand further back, lightly feeling his scalp, wincing as he came into contact with a rather sizable bump near the back, covered up by a swath of bandages. The blurry one - _Raph_, his dazed mind reminded him - lightly smacked his hand away. "Don't touch!"

"Ow! Fuck!" Casey glared at Raphael as the turtle slowly came into focus. "I'm already freaking dead, you idjit, no need to add to it!"

"You big pansy, I barely touched you." Raphael disappeared for a minute. Casey could hear him moving around his tiny kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, the fridge, running the water. Then he was back in the living room. Casey blinked. Yes, the living room. He recognized the feeling of the springs poking through his couch cushions. "Here. Don't say I never did nothin' for ya."

An ice pack was thrust against his head, and an open bottle of Tylenol dropped on his chest. Casey dumped out four and then accepted the water glass from his partner, downing the whole bunch in a shot. "Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah, stop it or I'll get all misty-eyed," Raphael dead-panned. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

Casey rolled his eyes. "'I got cold-cocked by a dragon runt'," he repeated, a bit snarkily, but he couldn't bring himself to care - his head _ached_. "You _know_ what happened, nimrod."

"Asshole." But there was resigned amusement in Raphael's voice, and Casey smirked. "I mean, how'd they get the drop on you?"

"Not too sure." Holding on to the icepack, Casey shifted himself on the couch, aiming for a sitting-up position. Raph gripped one arm and hauled him up until his lower back rested against the armrest. "Thanks."

"Talk."

"Pushy." Casey resisted the urge to make a face at Raphael. That would be descending into Mikey territory, which was something they had agreed neither must ever do, if their friendship was to remain intact. "I went hunting for them. Found them robbing a place, and tried to take 'em out. There were a few more then I had bargained for."

"I saw." The affection was gone, replaced by anger. Raph stood next to the sofa, glaring down at him, arms folded. "Why didn't you call me? I would have come with you!"

Casey sighed, closing his eyes, and grimacing. "I needed to vent, bro. I really wasn't thinking of much other then finding something - or someone - to knock around."

"So you take on an entire baseball team of Dragons by yourself. Real smart move."

"If I say 'I'm sorry _Dad_', and promise to never do it again, will you get off my back?" Casey snapped, and then clamped his mouth shut in surprise. He must have been more on edge then he'd originally thought. Then he mentally smacked himself as he saw a flicker of hurt pass over Raph's face, so quick and fleeting it would be so easy to say he'd imagined it, but he knew his battle-brother too well to think that. "Ah, shit, Raph, ignore me. I'm pissy, and stressed, and my head is about to friggin' explode on me." Raphael rolled his eyes at him but Casey saw him relax fractionally, plopping his terrapin butt on the coffee table. Casey scowled at him. "I eat off that, you know."

"You have a kitchen table," Raph pointed out. "So what's the deal, Case? I know somethings up - hell, your _mother_ knows about us, Leo knows she knows, you've been blowing us off for _weeks_, you ain't even been around, city-wise - I mean, what the Hell, Case?"

"Aww, you been worried about me?" Deflection hadn't worked with his mother, but there was always a chance it could work with Raphael.

"_Yes_, you shithead. I've been worried, April's been worried, _everyone's_ been worried about your sorry ass. Too bad you don't seem to give a damn about anyone else!" Raphael's eyes were all but shooting lasers of death in his direction.

Deflection was obviously not the way to go. "Yeah, about mom knowing you guys..." Casey coughed. "She's still kinda set on meeting y'all."

Raph snorted. "Leo wants to interrogate her," he drawled. "Thinks she might be an enemy agent, gonna give away our secrets."

"_My_ mother?" Casey blinked at the idea of his mother being a turncoat. His mother, who had been the person to beat a moral code into Casey so thoroughly that it had shaped his entire adult life into the vigilante-filled chaos it currently was. He didn't know whether to be offended on her behalf, or to burst out in hysterical laughter. "I think I should be feeling really pissed off at that, but since my brains are leaking out my ears, I'll let it pass."

"How generous of you." There was a flash of metal, and Casey watched, wide-eyed as the turtle began twirling his sai's, a threatening hint of promise lurking in his eyes, and echoed in his ready pose. Even perched on a coffee table edge, Raph managed to pull off the 'why yes, I can beat you three ways from Sunday' look without even trying. It really wasn't fair sometimes. "Talk. I ain't askin' again."

Casey sighed again, and let his eyes drift across the sparsely furnished apartment. Moonlight filtered through the windows, filling the room with an almost eerie blue glow. A look at the battered clock hanging by a coat hanger wire told him he'd been out only a few hours - he'd left the apartment around eight o'clock and it was nearly one in the morning. Raph had a habit of staying out until nearly sunrise, and no one would be expecting him home anytime soon. That meant Raphael had plenty of time to waste nagging Casey to talk. _Damn_.

"It's stuff to do with my family," he said quietly. "My _other_ family," he corrected quickly, giving Raph a small grin. The turtle snorted, but a very faint smirk touched the edge of his beak and Casey knew without being told that Raph appreciated the little edit. "My mom called me out to talk about some stuff and I been trying to handle it ever since." He smiled again, briefly. "Part'a why I came back tonight was because I needed some of the pics April took of you guys. She gave me copies, and I wanna show 'em to Ma, get her really prepared to meet you guys."

Raph raised an eye ridge. "She really wants to meet us that badly?"

"You don't know my mother," Casey stated flatly. "If it involves the family, she wants in at the ground floor and don't you dare skip a level on the way up."

"She knows what we look like. She saw Leo and Master Splinter. She saw me on the Shell Cell."

"She saw glimpses." Casey shrugged. "Look, I just don't wanna have to revive her like we do every time someone sees you guys."

Raphael mock-glared, and kicked his foot out, hitting Casey in the leg. "Shut up. That only happens when people meet Splinter." He smirked. "I'm better looking, after all."

"You wish," Casey countered. "Anyway, I been dealing with her and - remember my cousin Sid? From last year's fun-fun-fun times at the farm?"

Raphael's eyes darkened. "Oh, I remember all right. What does that slime-ball want?"

Casey glared mildly at him. "To make up for being said slime-ball." He found it really weird that he had a strange urge to defend his cousin from Raphael, when not even a month ago he would have joined in on some name-calling. It was kinda funny how life worked itself out. "You guys, me and April made him see the light, so to speak."

Raph's other eye ridge lifted even higher then the first. "Say what?"

"Seriously man," Casey chuckled. "He had a change of heart, apologized big time to me and to Ma. Ma smacked him a good one and then welcomed him back into the family." The look on Sid's face was permanently etched into his memory - he didn't think he'd ever forget the look of complete and utter mystification on his cousin's face.

"And you trust him? Just like that?" Raphael gave him a look that Casey interpreted as 'you are fucking insane'.

"Yeah, like that." Casey focused his eyes - well, as much as he could without screaming - on his best friend. "He's still _family_, Raph. No matter what, you can't ignore that part."

It obviously struck a chord, because Raphael nodded after a minute. "So now what?"

"I'm gonna take the pictures to Ma. We're still working some stuff out. But don't be surprised if you guys get an invite up in the future."

"April's pissed at you."

"She should be." Casey knew that when the dam finally burst and he spilled his guts, Raph would have to take a number and get in line. April had first dibs on kicking his hind end for the way he'd been ignoring and excluding her from his life recently.

Raph chewed on that for a while and Casey let the icepack work its magic, relaxing and leaning his side against the back of the couch. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Raphael broke it with a very casual, "So when are you gonna tell me what's really going on?"

Casey snapped his eyes open again, turning his head back to Raphael. "Huh?"

Raphael wasn't even looking at him. He had swiped one of Casey's cleaning cloths and was idly buffing the sheen on his sai's, holding them up to the light of the moon, inspecting them for near-invisible nicks. "You heard me."

Casey thought about blustering. He thought about bluffing his way through a lie and trying to convince Raph he wasn't hiding anything. Two seconds after those thoughts entered his head, he immediately abandoned them. Lying always left a sour taste in his mouth, and he was never very good at it anyway. Besides, a lie now would just hurt Raphael's feelings, odd as it was to realize that. Raph was the toughest bad ass Casey had ever known, but among those he trusted, he could be surprisingly vulnerable, and Casey took his friendship with the other very seriously. "Soon."

Raph was silent again, still wiping non-existent grime off the immaculate prongs of the sai. Casey waited patiently. Finally, the red-banded turtle tossed the cloth over his shoulder and shoved the sai's back through his belt, hooking the outer blades over the worn leather. "Fine. Soon." He nodded and held his hand out, a stern and solemn look on his face.

Casey recognized their symbol for a promise and immediately slapped him five before bringing his hand back up to meet Raph's in a warrior's grip, his hand grasping Raphael's forearm while the turtle did the same to him. "I promise."

"You better, dipstick." Raphael stood up. "I'm gonna do another sweep. You heading back to the farm tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Casey decided to give Raph another bit of honesty. "Ma and I got into an argument. A big one. I left before either one of us said something we'd regret."

Raph nodded. "Go back and apologize to your mother, lunkhead."

"Yes sir, dome-head sir!"

"Bite me!" With those cheerful final words, Raph punched Casey in the shoulder and then headed for the window, crouching on the ledge and then springing off it, disappearing into the darkness.

Casey closed his eyes again and contemplated having another handful of Tylenol. He reached out blindly, groping the coffee table for the bottle, and his hand brushed against the slick smoothness of his cell phone. He popped one eye open. The Tylenol sat next to it, and he grabbed both. Two painkillers later, he eyed the phone warily, before finally punching in a familiar number.

The line rang several times before a raspy voice answered. "H-hello?"

"Ma?"

"Arnold?"

"You said you were gonna call me Casey," he joked weakly.

"Yeah." She paused for a second. "It's late, you know."

Casey bit his lip. "I...just wanted to say I'm sorry..."

"..."

"Ma?"

"...me too, Casey. I'm so sorry, kiddo."

Her voice had cracked a bit on the last word. He heard it. Casey felt a big chunk of his headache magically disappear.

"When are you coming back?" She asked quietly.

He smiled, even though she couldn't see it. "I'll see you at lunch-time, Ma."

His headache was gone.

**o0o...o0o**

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**o0o...o0o**

"Casey Jones! You open up this instant!"

Casey's eyes shot open at the sound of two very familiar fists striking his flimsy wooden front door, and he sat bolt upright on the couch. Fresh pain, a reminder of his night-time adventures, raked through his brain and made him swear. Loudly. In two languages even. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he grabbed the Tylenol bottle and added four more to his painkiller average of the day, chasing it down with the now-warm water still in the glass.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," he moaned painfully, rolling to his feet and lurching towards the door. He opened it before the owner of said-fists could bang on it again, and looked down at a very beautiful redhead whose rolling eyes promised a great deal more pain for him if he didn't get out of the way. "Mornin' babe."

April cocked her head, and then punched him in the stomach, making him double over. "Don't call me that."

Casey nodded, wheezing, and with one hand still wrapped around his stomach, he swept her in with the other. "Oh, yeah. Forgot about that."

Closing the door, Casey turned to greet her properly, and suddenly found his arms full of concerned girlfriend. _Well, of the friend-who-is-a-girl variety_, he corrected. She squeezed him tightly, and then stepped back, searching his face. "Are you all right?" She asked. "Raph stopped by the shop this morning and told me what happened last night."

_That lousy fink!_ Casey made a mental note to beat the mighty midget up later, and craned his neck to look at the clock. Barely past seven in the morning. "What were you doing up so early?" April's store usually opened around nine.

"Inventory. Searches. Work." April poked him in the chest. "What's the big idea of taking on ten Dragons by yourself? And what have you been up to lately? We never see you anymore!"

"First of all, it was nine Dragons. Raph's a liar." Casey led her over to the couch and they sat down. "And I didn't plan on taking on that many - it kinda surprised me too, when they all piled out of the truck."

"You should have called," she said sternly. The coolness was leaving her eyes though, he was glad to see. "Raph would have gone with you in a heartbeat."

"I know, babe, I know." She gave him a warning look. "Uh, sorry."

April leaned back against the couch, folding her arms and just looking at him, a tad reproachfully. Casey felt his stomach twist. She was obviously angry at him, and Raph had said she'd been worried, and now she was here - Casey gulped. Yep. He was in trouble.

April cleared her throat, breaking into his train of thought. "I thought we were a team," she said softly.

Casey blinked in surprise. That was something he hadn't seen coming. "We are!" He protested. He hesitated though. "Wait - you mean you, me and the guys, right?"

She glared at him.

"Right, that's what you meant. I knew that." Casey backpedaled quickly. "And we are. A team, I mean. Why wouldn't we be?"

"Because you haven't been a part of it for about two weeks or so," she told him, watching him carefully.

Casey sighed and slumped over, resting his face in his hands for a second, letting his hair fall in front of him. After a minute, he scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, grinding away the accumulating tension as best he could, and then raked his hair back, sitting back up straight before falling against the couch, letting his legs slide out. "I know."

She moved a bit closer to him, sitting sideways on the sofa, one long leg folded gracefully beneath her. "Why won't you tell us what's going on?" She looked him in the eye as she spoke, and Casey felt his heart break a little at her next words. "Why won't you tell me?"

"April-"

"I thought you trusted us! Me! If you're in trouble Casey, let us help you!" She was leaning forward now, and Casey had nowhere to go, trapped by vivid green eyes that were - _ah, hell_ - brimming with unshed tears. "What's going on?"

Casey reached for her hands and cupped them within his own, rubbing his thumbs over the smooth softness of her skin. "Ah, babe, you know I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly, meeting her gaze steadily, apologetically.

She stiffened a bit, and he watched fondly as she turned away, trying to roughly brush away any hint of upset. "You didn't hurt me."

She tried to tug her hands away, but Casey tightened his grip just enough to prevent her from escaping. "Yeah, I did." His own gaze dropped this time. "I been hiding stuff from you for a long time, instead of telling you what's going on." He reached out with one finger, sliding beneath her bowed head and lifting up that saucy chin he loved. One part of many he found he was starting to become more than slightly infatuated with, he thought ruefully. "Forgive me?"

She sniffled. "You're a _jerk_," she told him, leaning forward until her forehead pressed against his. "A selfish, egotistical jerk."

"I know."

"I forgive you."

"I know."

Something seemed to sweep through the room, a warmth that pressed against them, went through them and Casey found he couldn't look away from her face, those impish green eyes softened by emotion, softly parted lips that seemed an invitation to him, and he gladly took them up on their offer, leaning in and sealing their mouths together.

They'd kissed before. Magical, wonderful little kisses that curled Casey's toes and made his heart race. But this was different. This was more. They'd had plenty of arguments and had always felt the pull between them, the surge of electricity that sparked every time they vied for the dominant spot in their tumultuously growing relationship. The excitement and thrill of battling, and then surrendering to a little bit of the passion that swept through them both. But it had never gone past the surface, had never been something one couldn't potentially take back, or say it was more than just a joke.

This was softer. Gentler. Deeper. Casey let go of her hands and raised one, cupping the curve of her jaw and giving into the emotion building within him, impulsively offering every aspect of himself to her, and – shockingly enough - receiving her willingness in return. All of a sudden, this wasn't about lust anymore, and for a split second, Casey knew that it wasn't just him feeling something different. There was an undercurrent of something else, of something they'd always shied away from before.

Love.

They broke apart, gasping for air, eyes shining. April swallowed hard, looking at him, a hint of shock in her eyes and in the tone of her voice. "Casy...what...?"

"Shh..." he whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. "I know. Me too."

April nodded, a bit dazedly, which would have done wonders for his pride had his knees not been reduced to the consistency of Jello. "We need to talk," she said, after a minute.

Casey was still reeling over the revelations in that kiss, but he shook his head briefly, clearing it. "Yeah."

"Well?"

Not even for a second, did he think of trying a lie on her. He owed her the truth, something he should have given her long before this particular moment in time. Casey nodded, taking a deep breath. "I've been up at the farmhouse. You know that. Ma and I been working through some things - well," he corrected himself. "Mostly she's been working through some stuff. I'm trying to be there for her, you know - like supporting her and stuff."

April nodded, concern darkening her face. "Is she all right?"

Casey sighed again, feeling the tension he'd just gotten rid of, making a triumphant return, settling on his shoulders. He breathed deeply, giving in to the reality of his secret no longer being his. "No, she's not." He looked up, feeling the familiar wave of despair and fear roiling inside him.

April sat back, studying him thoughtfully. Something must have shown on his face because her eyes widened and a look of horror came over hers. "Casey, is she-"

The knot in his chest that seemed to grow every time he thought about what was happening, tried to expand throughout his lungs, cutting off his air. "She's dying," Casey choked out, and all the control, all the calmness he'd worked on, disappeared. Like when he first admitted his mother's impending demise to Sid, he felt the pain and misery and fear well out from behind the wall he'd tried so hard to build, flooding through him without pause. "April, my mom's dying."

He couldn't stop the sobs that suddenly erupted from him, the pain gushing forth until he gasped, unable to breathe, and then April was there, wrapping slender arms of steel around him, anchoring him and holding him together while he broke apart. He shivered, feeling the cold try to break through the earlier warmth he'd felt, and April's arms only tightened, trying to keep the chill at bay. He clung to her, huge clumsy hands pawing at her shirt, gripping her shoulders hard enough he was sure to leave bruises, but she never let go, and dimly, over the sounds of his own tears, he could hear her murmuring quietly, nonsense whispers to soothe and comfort.

She leaned back against the cushions, bringing him with her, coaxing him to lay his head against her chest. His ear pressed against her heartbeat, a solid, reassuring sound that he could focus on, and he could barely feel the touch of her lips against the top of his head. Something warm was falling, he though hazily. A wet warmth, not his, and as he drifted off into a doze, exhausted by his breakdown, he realized that April was crying too.

**o0o...o0o**

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**o0o...o0o**

He was running a little later then he had planned, but Casey wouldn't change his current schedule for anything in the world. He hummed along with the radio as he turned down the gravel road that eventually led to the farmhouse, still somewhat amazed at how light he felt.

After waking up, still cradled in her arms, Casey and April had talked for over an hour. April had been properly horrified over what he and his mother had been going through alone - "Sid doesn't count!" - and after hugging him and promising to be there for him, she'd promptly turned the tables on him with a good hard smack upside the head. On his already existing bruise to boot! It had been enough to make him see little yellow stars swimming around his head while she told him off but GOOD for leaving her out of everything. Casey had the feeling she'd let him off easy though. Injured and vulnerable from a crying jag - though he'd deny it in a heartbeat if anyone asked - she had probably felt too much pity for him to really hash things out the way they would have. But there was a glint in her eyes, one that made him shiver and _not_ in a good way. They would have a much more in-depth conversation, aka a fight. Casey pouted. It probably wouldn't be a fun one that would end in playful kisses either. Well. Not at _first_.

As for the details about Sid, well, Casey really wasn't expecting a warm response from April so soon. Sid had been responsible for that whole mess the year before, making her already injured reptilian brothers fight when they barely had the strength to walk, and the fact that he'd been Casey's cousin had made her doubly angry. Family didn't attack family. April had been furious with Sid not only for the turtle's sakes, but on Casey's behalf as well. Temporary truces - like when they'd dug up grandpa's treasure box - aside, April was still operating on old memories, and so he didn't take her attack on him personally. She would have to see Sid's turnaround for herself.

And she would, Casey promised. After his mom's next chemo appointment, April was going to come back to the farmhouse for that much-needed talk, and so she could visit Addie herself. He liked the thought of his two girls - could he call April his now, after that kiss they shared? Part of him thought so, the other part of him insisted that until they talked, nothing had officially changed- getting along.

He beeped the horn as he pulled into the driveway, sliding his car next to his mother's blue Volvo. Gripping his bag in one hand, he opened the car door and stepped out. As he did so, the front door opened, and his mother stepped out onto the porch.

Casey stopped and looked up the stairs at his mother. All the words they'd thrown at each other before he'd left came rushing back. Even with the apologies they'd given on the phone, it still felt unsettled to him. Things like 'I'm sorry' were always easier to say when you weren't looking the other person right in the eyes.

Speaking of which, his mother's eyes were glued on him. Even from the distance of about fifteen feet, he could easily see the red rimmed lids, a silent testimony to what she'd been going through while he'd been gone. One hand was partially lifted, reaching out to him unconsciously; the other still clung to the open-front door, a white knuckled grip that dug into the old, splintering wood. "Casey?"

Casey came back to himself at the sound his name coming from her, and he smiled, easily, readily, lifting his own arms up to greet her. "Hey, Ma. I'm home."

**o0o...o0o**

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**o0o...o0o**

April's mind was a million miles away. She leaned against the counter, one hand cupping her jaw, the other hand gripping her elbow, bracing herself as she stared vacantly out the storefront window. Technically, she should have closed the store almost an hour ago, but she'd shown up late as a result of the little side trip she'd made that morning, and she'd felt responsible enough to make up for it.

It was kind of strange. After being hit with the news of the reason behind Casey's seemingly self-imposed isolation, the last thing she'd felt like was smiling. But business at the store had been brisk that day which always made her happy, and as well as turning a decent profit from in-house sales, she'd also been hired to search out some rare artifacts for a couple of eager collector's. Once their credit cards had cleared, she'd been more than willing to take on the hunt. It would give her something to do later. She could use a distraction.

She still couldn't believe what she'd been told. Of all the things Casey's mother could have been in town for, cancer treatment had not been something she'd considered. Part of her was angry. Casey should have trusted her, should have trusted them. If he hadn't been caught by Raphael the night before and subsequently injured, he'd still be hiding it all away.

She sighed and drummed her fingers on the counter, and then braced herself with both hands, pushing up. Making her way to the front door, she flipped the sign to 'closed' and then locked it securely, pressing the buttons for the security panels to lower into place. After counting her money and recording it, she'd call Leo and cancel her training for the night. She had a lot of things to think about, a lot of anger to work through so that she could be a pillar of support for her...

Boyfriend?

That was the other thing nagging at her all day. The kiss they'd shared that morning had been more symbolic, more emotional, more..._more_, then any other one they'd shared. For a brief moment, it was like she could feel all of him through that gentle link they shared, his desperation, his stress, his despair; she'd felt so protective, so seized by urgency to give him what he needed to shore himself up. And when he'd confessed the source of his troubles...all she could do was hold on, weather the storm and do what it took to keep her normally strong friend from breaking into a thousand pieces.

Something had changed between them, in that moment, and April was a little afraid to find out exactly what it was. But another part of her really, _really_ wanted to make the discovery, to see if it meant to him what it had meant to her. She touched her lips gently, remembering the gentleness of that touch, and a shiver went through her.

Oh yes, part of her really wanted to know.

Her Shell Cell went off, and she blinked, waking up from her dreamlike state. Retrieving it from her pocket, she flipped it open. "Hey, Leo."

"Hi, April. Just wondering what's happening tonight." Leo looked at her questioningly through the monitor. His keen eyes never missed a trick, she knew all to well, and sure enough, his brows furrowed slightly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Leo," she said, smiling at his concern for her. "I was just locking up and was about to call you. I'm gonna take a rain check on tonight, if that's okay."

"Sure, if you want." He frowned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

April held back a sigh. Even though Casey had finally told her the details of what was going on, he'd asked her to keep it to herself for the time being. He said it was because he wanted time to prepare his mother for meeting the guys, but April couldn't see what that had to do with being told about his mother's illness. She suspected that more discussion about the whole thing, especially after already having two - as he put it - 'bawling sessions' already, would do him in. April babying him, he could handle, but she suspected any sympathy from the guys would make him have another breakdown, and he wasn't ready to deal with that yet.

April was no psychologist, but she did take some of the required courses in University, and she suspected years of handling everything by himself had made him resistant to asking for help when it came down to really serious things. Sure, Casey asked Raph to come along on Dragon runs, but that was because two skull-busters were better - and more fun - than one. And Casey would be the first to help the guy against the bad guys, because that was what they did - kick butt together, and kick it well. But illnesses, death - these things were harder to handle. No one in life was really equipped to deal with someone in the family receiving a shock like Casey had, and his 'programming' seemed to be telling him to 'handle it yourself' because he didn't really know any other way to handle it.

April had every intention of making one Arnold Casey Jones fully aware that keeping out the people who cared about you was NOT the proper way to handle such things. But there was a time and place for that, and she didn't have the heart that morning to rake him over the coals, not after the heart-wrenching display he'd finally allowed himself to have in front of her. That spoke volumes about Casey's trust in her, and for the time being, she'd respect that.

"Just a long and busy day," she said. "I've got two 'hunts' to go on - I foresee a long date with my computer tonight. One guy wanted some old Chinese pottery for his new building. And a Mr Lee said if I found a few rare back issues for him, I'd get a _really_ nice bonus. Cute little old guy, seemed really nice - I don't want to let him down, or let that bonus get away."

Leo nodded. "Understood. Will you be coming tomorrow?"

"Be prepared to eat my fists," she vowed, and they both signed off laughing.

April tucked the Shell-Cell away and stood there silently for a moment. Her hand reached down under the counter, and she pulled out a small, framed photo that had been sitting there, ever since she'd had the store rebuilt. It was a shot of her and Casey, in the middle of an argument. They were both leaning into one another, obviously shouting at the top of their lungs. April had one finger poking his chest, and Casey's arms were thrown to the sides as though making a point she could no longer remember. To a random passerby, it probably wouldn't seem like a very good photo to capture what one normally wanted to see in a relationship.

But April knew better. There was a faint hint of a smile on her face, her lip quirking just enough that she could see herself trying not to laugh. And Casey's mouth was open in a seemingly angry yell - but his eyes were warm, almost amused. April smiled, as she always did when she saw that picture. It really was them. Loud, and brash, and in-your-face, never backing down - but if anyone ever tried to come between them...

April's smiled faded a bit. At least, that was what they _were_. And now, she didn't know if that was what they were still going to be, or if they were finally going to take that much-needed step to progress past the yelling and blustering. Then she shook herself briskly.

She trusted Casey. She knew he cared for her, and she for him. It would work out. And she - and the guys, if she had anything to say about it - would be there for Casey, if the worst (although, from what Casey had said, 'when' was probably more accurate than 'if') should happen.

In the meantime, she had a search to do. With a firm nod, April turned off the lights and went up the stairs to begin it.

**o0o...o0o**

**96969696969696969696969696969696969696969696**

**o0o...o0o**

**Notes:** In the last two previous chapters I made a timing error. In my original, plotted-out time-line, Callie and Sid left after breakfast. Then, when I was writing everything out, I made Callie show up in the afternoon, but at the beginning of chapter 8, I had her and Sid leaving 'just after breakfast'. I was following the time-line I had plotted out and forgot to take into account muse-derived creativity that resulted in a slightly different chapter from what I had originally planned. Sorry for any confusion.

If you happen to spot any continuity errors, please let me know. I try to keep track of everything, but sometimes I veer away from my original thoughts and then forget to make the necessary changes in the outline I'm following. :) Bad Stormy, no biscuit.

Big thank you's to everyone still reading this fic. This chapter was shorter than I planned, but hopefully the next one will make up for it.

Reviews always appreciated.


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